


We’re All A Little Twisted

by messandahalf



Series: The Darkness Within (Trilogy) [1]
Category: Merlin (TV)
Genre: Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence, Ambiguous/Open Ending, Angst, Angst and Feels, Angst with a Happy Ending, Arthur Finds Out About Merlin’s Magic (Merlin), Bittersweet Ending, Blood and Violence, Canon-Typical Violence, Dark Merlin (Merlin), Emotional Hurt, Hurt/Comfort, King Arthur Pendragon (Merlin), M/M, Merlin's Magic Revealed (Merlin), POV Alternating, this is not really a happy story guys
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-05-05
Updated: 2020-05-12
Packaged: 2021-03-03 01:13:28
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 10
Words: 36,562
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/24026407
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/messandahalf/pseuds/messandahalf
Summary: This had all started with a curse. A particularly nasty curse which had been intended for Arthur, but which Merlin had jumped in front of to save Arthur’s life. Again.
Relationships: Merlin/Arthur Pendragon (Merlin)
Series: The Darkness Within (Trilogy) [1]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/1783210
Comments: 88
Kudos: 351





	1. Chapter 1

Things has been dull in Camelot lately. There had been no attempts on Arthur’s life, which Merlin had found particularly suspicious, and not even a peep out of any of Camelot’s known enemies. No evil sorcerer’s had swept into the city to take revenge on Uther’s past wrongs. There hadn’t been so much as a child with a scraped knee. Merlin should have been enjoying the utter peace and quiet, but instead, he found himself twitchy. He couldn’t help feeling like something nasty was brewing on the horizon. Gaius had told him to stop looking for trouble where there was none, and Gwen had said much the same. He had made the mistake of mentioning his concerns to Arthur. The king had just looked at him like he was stupid, and then sent him away with an even longer list of chores than normal. Something about him clearly having too much time on his hands. Prat.

“I take it you talked to Arthur?” Gwen questions as she passes Merlin in the hallway. Merlin looks up from the decorative suit of armour set up on display that he is currently polishing. He grimaces.

“Whatever gave you that idea?” He quips, glaring back at his reflection in the metal. His arms and shoulders are aching. Polishing armour normally was bad enough. This nasty set didn’t come apart, so Merlin was forced to clean and polish it as if an actual human being was wearing it. This was a whole new level of torture that he didn’t even know Arthur was capable of.

Gwen gives him a sympathetic smile. “I really don’t want to say _‘I told you so’_ , but I did warn you against telling Arthur that you thought things were too quiet.” She shrugs helplessly.

Merlin heaves a weary sigh. “I know.” He huffs tiredly. “And I know how stupid it sounds, I just— I have this gut feeling that something terrible is going to happen, and instead of taking me seriously, he has me polishing fake knights that no one even looks at.” He gestures at the armour beside him in disgust. He shoots Gwen a half-hearted glare as she hastily stifles a giggle, hiding her smile behind her hand.

“To be honest with you,” she says with an amused grin, “I didn’t even know this thing was here. Are you sure Arthur didn’t just drag it out specially for you?”

Merlin hangs his head with a groan. That _did_ sound like something _His Royal Highness_ would do. Sometimes Merlin wonders if Arthur forgets that he is actually a king and should therefore behave like one. As if reading his mind, Gwen covers another giggle, then waves as she moves on. At least _she_ has logical duties to perform around the castle. Merlin scowls and goes back to work, secretly plotting all the ways he could get back at Arthur for this particular brand of abuse of power. He has his nearly infinite list narrowed down to something food related when Arthur comes looking for him.

“Ah, Merlin, there you are.” He says, as if he had been searching the whole castle for him. Merlin rolls his eyes and counts to ten slowly before turning to face the king and his royal smirk.

“Yes, Sire?” He asks, throwing as much sarcasm and sass as he can into just the two words. The only effect it has is to make Arthur’s smirk grow.

Arthur’s eyes are sparkling as he says, “Now, now, Merlin. Is that my way to address your king?” He’s looking so thoroughly pleased with himself that Merlin desperately wants to do something, _anything_ , to wipe the look off his face. He doesn’t.

“Did you need something?” He asks with all the fake enthusiasm he can muster. Arthur is now fully grinning, and the look makes Merlin’s stomach drop. Nothing good ever comes out of that look. However, much to his surprise, all Arthur does is nod, eyes still decidedly twinkling.

“As a matter of fact, yes.” Arthur says. “It is dinner time. You were so caught up in your work that you failed to notice that your king needs to eat.” Merlin debates on making another jab about Arthur getting fat, but decides against it as Arthur gives him a pointed look. “I assume you are finished your work here, and I expect to see you in my chambers with food soon.”

With that, Arthur spins on his heel and marches away, but not without throwing Merlin a cheeky grin over his shoulder. Merlin glowers at his retreating back. All it would take is one little thought and the king would be sprawled across the floor. No one would see him using magic. No one would know. That voice of reason in his head, that sounds suspiciously like Gaius, tells him that, that is a very foolish idea. Merlin grudgingly listens to it, if only to avoid the real Gaius’s lecture later should he find out about it. He gives the suit of armour one last glare before dropping his rag onto the bucket of dirty water, and reaching down to pick the whole thing up.

After dumping the dirty water, Merlin makes his way leisurely to the kitchens. Arthur can wait a little longer, as payment for his ridiculous orders. He gets a few surprises and harried looks as he strolls into the overheated room and grabs the tray laden down with the king’s dinner. The cook shoots him a particularly nasty look.

“That was to be taken to the king near a half hour ago, boy.” She says venomously. Merlin merely shrugs, only making the cook angrier. Her face is decidedly red as Merlin dodges the swat meant for the back of his head and rushes from the room, childlike laughter spilling from his lips. Honestly, he really is surprised that he’s managed to stay in the employment of the royal family for as long as he has.

He runs into Gwen again in one of the many stairwells leading up to Arthur’s chambers. She gives him a reproachful look. “You know, Merlin, things would probably go a lot smoother for you if you just did as you were told, and stopped running late all the time.”

Merlin grins, shattering any attempt at innocence he may have been striving for. “Someone has to keep Arthur from getting too high and mighty.” He shrugs carelessly. Gwen’s smile turns long-suffering as she shakes her head.

“Arthur must be very fond of you, the way he puts up with you like he does.” She comments. Merlin immediately feels his cheeks flush with warmth. _Arthur_ and _feelings_ were two subjects he really didn’t want to have in the same sentence together like that. Not if he wanted to keep his own hidden. Especially from Gwen.

Merlin clears his throat awkwardly. “Uh, yeah. He must. Anyway, I gotta go. See you, Gwen.” He quickly sidesteps her and hurries up the stairs. He can feel his friend’s bewildered eyes on his back, but he doesn’t look back to meet them. He doesn’t trust his own expression not to give himself away entirely. He can only breathe a little easier once he reaches the top of the stairs and turns the corner, effectively breaking off the heat being burned into his back. He pauses for a moment to take a deep breath, pulling himself together before continuing on his way. With Arthur, there is a fine line been amusement at Merlin’s tardiness, and genuine irritation. Merlin is currently walking that line.

He hurries through the rest of the castle, dodging guards and maids along the way and shooting hurried apologies over his shoulder as he carries on. He’s nearly out of breath by the time he bursts into Arthur’s chambers. The king looks over at him from his spot by the window with a very unimpressed look. Merlin drops his eyes meekly.

“Sorry.” He mumbles as he steps further into the room and places the now slightly messy tray on the table. He hears Arthur heave a sigh before approaching the table.

“Did you get lost again?” The king asks as he sits. Merlin looks up to meet his eyes, and is relieved to see Arthur’s annoyance nearly gone completely. He offers up a goofy grin.

“Oh, you know, there’s just so many twists and turns in this place. Easy enough for anyone to get turned around once in a while.” Merlin is rewarded with a huff of laughter, an overly fond eye roll, and a smile that oozes _‘you’re an idiot, but I’ve long ago accepted that as fact’_.

Silence overtakes them as Arthur begins to eat slowly. Merlin hasn’t been in Arthur chambers since waking the king that morning, so he buries himself by bustling around and straightening things. He pulls the blankets up on the bed, making sure to fluff the pillows _just_ _so_ to make Arthur happy. Next, he picks up discarded clothes off the floor, rolling his eyes at how sloppy a man in such power can be. He’s just sorting them into clean and dirty when Arthur finally speaks again.

“Why do you think something bad is going to happen?” Arthur’s voice makes Merlin forget the clothes and turn to face him instead. Arthur is looking thoughtfully down at his half finished dinner, goblet of wine clutched tightly in one hand. Merlin chews on his lip thoughtfully for a moment.

“Because something always is.” He replies simply, shrugging his shoulders. He knows that, that answer will not please Arthur, but he doesn’t really have another one. Without explaining to Arthur that he’s been lying for him for years, that he’s actually a sorcerer himself and his magic can sense when something is going to happen, that’s the best he’s got.

Arthur shifts to look at him, his expression all too familiar. “This is another one of your funny feelings, isn’t it?” He asks, managing to sound quite condescending without even meaning to. Merlin has to grit his teeth to bite back a sarcastic retort.

“Yes.” He replies after a moment. “And in case you’ve forgotten, those feelings are almost always right in the end.” He adds on, hoping that for the first time, Arthur will take him seriously before something catastrophic happens. To his dismay, Arthur merely _looks_ at him.

“It would be helpful if your _feelings_ could tell me what exactly I’m supposed to be worried about beforehand.” He replies, returning to his dinner. Merlin glares at the back of his golden head as he lifts his goblet to take a sip of wine. He can’t really blame Arthur. He, himself, had gotten frustrated over the years when every nerve in his body would light up in warning, but never tell him why. How was he supposed to make the then-prince-and-now-king listen to him if he couldn’t even really explain why?

Arthur easily picks up on his manservant’s silence, and abandons his dinner to look at him again. “You really are worried, aren’t you?”

Merlin averts his eyes, turning back to sort through Arthur clothes. “It’s probably nothing.” His attempt to brush off his obvious concerns falls flat, even to his own ears. It’s no surprise when he hears the tell-tale sound of a chair being pushed back over the stone flooring. He hears footsteps approaching him from behind, coming to a stop mere moments before strong hands grip his shoulders and spin him around. Merlin keeps his eyes firmly glued to Arthur red tunic in his hands.

“Merlin, you know that you can tell me anything.” Arthur says softly. Merlin has heard those words before, many times, and just like before, he longs to finally tell his king, his _friend_ , the truth about himself. However, as he inhales a breathes to finally just say it, he hears his mother’s and Gaius’s warnings to never tell anyone about his gifts. He breathes out miserably and looks away. “Merlin?”

Arthur’s concerned tone makes Merlin finally look up again, servant’s eyes meeting king’s. He can easily read the questions hidden in Arthur blue eyes. The pair had grown quite close over the years, and just as Merlin could read Arthur’s body language, Arthur could read Merlin’s. He knew Merlin was hiding something. He always had, but he had never pushed, silently hoping that one day Merlin would feel ready to willingly spill his secrets himself. Merlin steels himself and looks away.

“It’s nothing, really. Eat your food before it gets cold.” He twists in Arthur’s arms, dislodging the king’s grip, and turns away to toss the tunic in his hands into the basket to be laundered. He can feel the other man’s hesitation behind him, but he doesn’t speak again. Eventually, Arthur returns to his table to continue eating. Silence once again reigns over the room. It’s tense, and thick with unspoken words and secrets, and Merlin finds it almost suffocating. He finds his body half turning to face Arthur, once again ready to spill the truth, but heeds his elders’ warnings. Now is not the time to tell Arthur. It’s still not safe yet.

Arthur can sense the imposing atmosphere too, shifting in his seat as he slowly eats his already cooling dinner. He tries to think of a way to break it, to set his loyal servant at ease, but nothing comes to mind. He sighs in resignation, and pushes the still half-full tray away from him. His appetite is no longer as pressing and needy as it had been. Merlin hears the noise and turns to face him, ready to chastise him for not eating, when a loud crash sounds in the hall outside the door. Both Arthur and Merlin tense at the sound, Merlin’s magic buzzing through his veins as Arthur reaches for his sword.

For a moment, there is an uneasy silence, followed by another crash and then shouting. There’s the sound of many footsteps rushing about, and Arthur springs to his feet, ready to rush to the door and help. Merlin beats him to it, and with surprising strength, pushes him back. Arthur shoots him a rather disgruntled and shocked look.

“You can’t go out there, Arthur. We have no idea what’s going on!” Merlin orders, surprising Arthur even further. He tries to shove past Merlin again, but can’t get past him.

Arthur stumbles back with a frustrated yell. “That’s exactly why I need to be out there!” He cries as there’s a shout of pain on the other side of the heavy wooden door. “I will not leave my men out there to die!” He shouts ferociously as the unmistakable sound of swords clashing reach their ears. Merlin looks at the door in alarm, and Arthur takes his chance. Roughly gripping his servant’s shoulders, he hauls him aside and crashes through the doors. Merlin shouts something behind him, but it falls on deaf ears.

Merlin scrambles to follow the king out into the hall, but freezes as he takes in the sight. The entire hallway is littered with the bloody bodies of the Camelot guards. Standing in the center of the carnage is a man in a deep, navy cloak, sword clutched easily in one hand. His other hand is held out to the side, fingers reaching out toward the guard slumped lifelessly at the base of the wall. A sorcerer, and an evil one at that.

Arthur recovers first, hefting his sword in front of him. “Who are you, and how did you get in here?” He demands. Merlin flails, reaching for the back of Arthur’s jacket, and missing, as the king slowly approaches the enemy. Merlin’s magic prickles insistently under his skin, and he readies himself to use it should he need to. If this is how Arthur finds out, then so be it. At least the king will be alive to get angry at all.

“Neither of those questions matter.” Comes the raspy reply. The voice sends a chill through the hallway. “It is why I am here that matters.” The man goes on, moving his free hand up to his cloak to pull down the hood. Dark brown, nearly black, hair and dark eyes greet them. Merlin feels a jolt of something akin to recognition, though he is certain that he has never seen this man before. He reeks of evil, the scent of blood and hatred almost clogging up Merlin’s nose and preventing him from catching a full breath.

Arthur clearly clenches his teeth. “Why are you here, then?” He seethes, not liking the fact that he already seems to be playing into this sorcerer’s hand. The man smiles, but it’s cruel and hard.

“For the same reason that all of my kind before me have come. To seek payment for the atrocities the Pendragon family has committed to our people for decades.” The man hisses, eyes flashing gold. Every torch in the vicinity roars higher, the flames nearly licking the high roof. Arthur takes a cautious step back, eyes never leaving the other man.

His face is grim as he says, “So you are here to kill me.” Arthur doesn’t voice it as a question, more like a fact that he has simply grown used to. Merlin’s heart momentarily aches at the fact that his friend has grown so accustomed to people making attempts on his life.

The man’s cruel smile grows. “No, I am going to sit back and watch you destroy Camelot yourself. Your faithful people will watch you become the very monster that my kind know you to be.” At these words, Merlin’s magic flares up inside of him, and he rushes for Arthur. The sorcerer is already reciting a chant, voice growing in strength and ferocity as he continues. Merlin’s heart nearly stops as the man’s eyes open, flaring gold as he lifts his hand and shouts the final words. All Merlin has the chance to do is slam into Arthur’s body, sending the king tumbling to the ground as the curse hits him square in the chest instead.

An evil cackle reverberates off the walls, closing in around Merlin’s head until it’s all he can hear as he stumbles backwards and falls to the stone floor. The breath has been knocked from his lungs, and he struggles futilely to breathe. A relentless fire has ignited where the curse hit him, and is slowly enveloping his whole body. He squeezes his eyes shut against the pain as screaming reaches his ears. He suddenly realizes they’re coming from him. The distant sounds of a battle slowly become louder, but they sound distorted, almost like they were being heard from underwater. Then, just as quickly as it all started, it all stops.

“Merlin!” Arthur is suddenly on his knees by Merlin’s head, hand hovering uncertainly over his chest. Merlin forces his eyes to focus on the king’s face.

“‘M alright.” He slurs slightly, struggling to sit up. Arthur scoffs beside him.

“No, you’re not. You just got hit by evil magic. I’m taking you to see Gaius.” Arthur gets to his feet, then reaches down to haul Merlin up with him. Merlin staggers slightly, only remaining upright as Arthur wraps a steadying arm around his waist. Merlin’s head feels fuzzy as they make their way through the castle halls. Outside Gaius’s chambers, he hears it.

“Merlin, we’re going to have so much fun.” He flinches at the voice that sounds exactly like his own.


	2. Chapter 2

Merlin was slouched heavily at Gaius’s workbench as the older man worked around him, poking and prodding him here and there, and looking into his eyes, and ears, and even his mouth. Merlin still felt like it was all rather unnecessary. He felt fine. A little tired, maybe, but definitely not like he just took a bout of powerful magic to the chest. When he tells the room as such, Gaius looks up sharply.

“That is exactly the problem, Merlin.” He tells him seriously. “From what Arthur has told me, this should have done more damage than it clearly is. This may not be concerning to you, but it certainly is to everyone else.” Gaius presses his lips into a thin line as he continues his examination. Over the top of his head, Merlin’s eyes meet Arthur’s. He hasn’t left, barely even moved, since dumping Merlin down on the bench and backing out of the physicians way. He had babbled out a rendition of what had happened, and then hovered, face creased with concern. To his surprise, Merlin feels a brief flare of annoyance at the king’s so blatant and obvious worry for his well being.

Merlin and Arthur both look back to Gaius as the physician moves away, perplexed. He’s looking at Arthur as he says, “I can’t find anything wrong with him.”

Arthur frowns and steps closer. “There has to be something. Perhaps you missed something small. No one gets hit with magic like that and just walks away.” That small flare of annoyance returns at Arthur’s words, building slightly in Merlin’s chest. Since when was _Arthur_ the expert on magic? The ugly feeling continues to rear its head until Merlin consciously tamps it down shakily. The people closest to him are just worried. That’s hardly anything to get angry about.

“Perhaps I’m just lucky.” He pipes up, feeling like he should be a part of the conversation, seeing as it was about him. Both Arthur and Gaius turned to look at him, Arthur incredulous and Gaius calculatingly. He meets the physician’s eyes and tries to convey his thoughts. _‘Perhaps my own magic protected me against any lasting damage the curse may have caused someone else.’_

“You were writhing on the ground, screaming.” The king points out, as if that fact should have been obvious. Merlin is admittedly startled by the news. He knew that the curse had initially been painful, but he hadn’t realized that it had been so outwardly obvious. Arthur looks away as he clenches his teeth and huffs a frustrated breath out through his nose. When he looks back, the shadow has passed from his face, but he looks determined. “You’re taking the next few days off to rest. I’ll have George attend to me.”

Merlin looks back at him stubbornly. “I’m fine, Arthur. You don’t need to have someone else do my job for me.” He bites out. A look of shock passes over Arthur’s face at Merlin’s tone, but it soon passes.

“My word is final, Merlin. You are to remain where Gaius can keep an eye on you. I don’t want you to return to work until I am satisfied that everything is in order.” Arthur delivers his order in such an aloof way that Merlin feels like he’s simply being brushed aside because he’s no longer of use at the current moment. He frowns at the sudden brooding thought and pushes it aside. His shoulders slump in defeat.

“I’m okay, Arthur. Honestly.” He tries one last time. Arthur’s expression softens minutely as their eyes meet again. He slowly approaches his servant, stopping just out of arms reach.

“I know you believe that, Merlin, but you didn’t see what I saw. I have been through battle and have rarely seen anyone is as much agony as you were. For that alone, I want you to rest. Who knows what side effect that spell could have had on you.” His hands twitch at his sides, almost like he wants to reach out and touch Merlin, but doesn’t. Instead, he gives Gaius a taut smile, then turns and leaves the room. Neither man speaks until the door is closed and the king’s footsteps have faded away into nothing.

Gaius rounds on him and demands, “Merlin, do you have any idea at all of the nature of this curse?” He searches Merlin’s face as Merlin desperately tries to think. Eventually, he looks up with a hopeless expression.

“I don’t know. I’ve never heard the words before, and I was too focused on getting to Arthur to really remember what the man even said. Maybe we have nothing to worry about anyway. Arthur killed the sorcerer who cast it, shouldn’t that break the curse?” Merlin replies, hoping that his hypothesis was correct. His hopes crash and burn at the look on Gaius’s face.

“Perhaps.” The older man says unconvincingly. When he doesn’t elaborate, Merlin shifts uneasily.

“What?” He asks, not entirely sure that he actually wants the answer.

Gaius sighs heavily. “Some spells are indeed broken when the person who casts them leaves this world. Others are made through such powerful magic that simply killing the sorcerer who cast it isn’t enough to break the magic’s power.” Merlin looks away miserably at the man’s words. He already has a sinking feeling which kind of magic Gaius thinks this curse falls under. Still, he has to check.

“And you think this magic falls under the powerful kind?” He voices reluctantly. Gaius nods, making Merlin’s heart sink even further.

“I’m afraid so.” Gaius says quietly. That is not good news, and not only for Merlin but potentially all of Camelot as well.

“Gaius,” Merlin says, “before he cast that spell, he was talking about how Arthur was going to turn into a monster. How he was going to destroy Camelot and show his people how terrible he actually was. What did he mean?”

Gaius looks troubled as he thinks over Merlin’s words. Merlin had been analyzing them himself ever since Gaius had started his initial examination when he first arrived. He had come to no conclusion, other than it was bad. If this curse was intended to make Arthur commit truly heinous acts, what would it do with the power that Merlin possessed? Would his magic fight it off, or would his magic simply blend with this new foreign magic and make him practically unstoppable?

“I’m not sure, Merlin.” Gaius replies heavily. “But whatever it is, it can’t be good.” Merlin nods, having already expected this answer. As they both sit in silence, thinking over what is to come in the near future, Merlin suddenly gets a chill down his spine. He shivers and looks around uneasily, but there isn’t anything there. A moment later, he hears it again, that voice that sounds so eerily like his own.

“Merlin, are you ready to have fun yet?” He shifts around, eyes darting around the room, but he knows it’s no use. He already knows that the voice is in his head, where only he can hear it. He squeezes his eyes shut and tries to push the voice away. _His_ voice. He hears a dark, melodic laugh echo around the room and his muscles involuntarily tighten, ready for a fight. He flinches dramatically when a hand suddenly lands on his shoulder.

“Merlin?” Gaius’s face swims into focus. “Are you okay? I’ve called your name half a dozen times already.” He says, with no small amount of concern. Merlin belatedly realizes that he’s panting and shivering. He blinks several times and glances around the room, but the voice and the chill in the air have both vanished. For now.

Merlin gives the physician a wan smile. “Yeah, I’m alright.” He lies through his teeth. “Just need to rest a bit, I think. I’m more tired than I thought.” He shakily gets to his feet, ignoring the older man’s unconvinced face, and slowly makes his way to his room on shaky legs.

He leans against the closed door and breathes hard. What was happening to him? Was the curse slowly driving him insane? He was already hearing voices, after all. With a groan, he crosses the small room and slumps down onto his bed. His body is still shaking, though whether it’s from the effort of subconsciously fending the curse off, or letting it in and take over, he did not know. The lack of answers to that particular question is making him feel uneasy and mildly nauseous. Should the curse meld with his own magic, making him more powerful, he fears for what he could do, to not only Camelot but specifically Arthur. If this curse told him to kill the king, like Morgana had tried to do before, it might actually end up happening.

Exhausted, Merlin lets his body fall onto its side, head barely making it onto the pillow. He doesn’t have the energy to crawl under the blanket, so he just lets himself lie where he landed. He can hears faint whispers in his head, but he can’t make out individual words. It’s more like a dull buzz in his ear. Rolling onto his back, he claps his hands over his ears and squeezes his eyes closed, trying in vain to block the noise out before it starts actually speaking again. The shaking in his body intensifies as he distinctly hears his name spoken through the fog in his mind.

“No.” He half groans, half whines. He makes sure to keep his voice low enough that Gaius won’t hear him on the other side of the door. The last thing he needs is Gaius telling Arthur there was something wrong, and having Arthur become even more worried and overbearing. That thought brings his previous annoyance, at the king, creeping back in. He can take care of himself. He doesn’t need a glorified, righteous knight pestering after him unnecessarily.

Merlin gasps loudly as the thought fills him up. That’s not right. Arthur was only worrying because they were friends. That’s what friends did. They looked out for one another. He had never cared before, so why did the king’s concern suddenly fill with with such grim irritation?

“It’s because he thinks you’re weak.” His voice taunts in his head. “The king doesn’t know what you’re fully capable of. Why don’t we show him just how strong you really are?” Merlin shifts his hands from his ears to his hair, and pulls on the strands harshly. Maybe he can forcefully pull the voice out that way. All he gets is a sore scalp and the voice chuckling darkly in his head.

“No.” Merlin says firmly into the otherwise empty room. “Arthur is my friend, you’re wrong. He will know the truth someday, but not yet.” He keeps his voice forceful, but quiet, so as not to alert Gaius. He holds his breath for a moment. When he doesn’t get a response from his head, he lets it out shakily. He just needed some rest and everything would fine when he woke up.

~~~

Arthur was pacing the floor restlessly in front of the empty fireplace when there was a knock on his chamber doors. He calls out a distracted order to enter, not bothering to look up as the doors opened. He continues pacing until the door closes behind his visitor, and whoever it is clears their throat. His heart launches into his mouth when he looks up to see Gaius. His mind flashes with images of Merlin laying on the ground, hands curled into painful fists by his sides as he screamed.

“What is it?” He asks urgently. “Is Merlin all right?” He adds, taking an unconscious step toward the physician and the door, and therefore Merlin.

Gaius holds up a placating hand. “There has been no change in Merlin’s condition since you left. He still insists that he is fine. However, I have come to ask a few more questions about what occurred. Perhaps this discussion will go easier without Merlin here to interrupt.”

Arthur practically sags with relief at hearing that Merlin still appears to be unscathed after his run in with the sorcerer. He nods agreeably, gesturing to the table in invitation to sit. Gaius bows just slightly and moves to sit in one of the chairs set up around the table. Arthur takes the one across from the physician and sits at attention, ready to offer the older man whatever it is that he may need. Gaius takes a moment to think through the conversation before speaking, which is just long enough for Arthur to start getting fidgety.

“There is nothing physically wrong with Merlin.” He finally starts. “I firmly believe that, that will remain the case. Outwardly, he is as fit and healthy as he has ever been.” Despite being good news, it does little to quell the dread building in Arthur’s chest.

“Why do I feel like this is the tiny amount of good news before the extremely bad, bad news?” Arthur asks, wincing only slightly at his befuddled wording.

Gaius sighs uncertainly. “I fear that mentally, Merlin isn’t as okay as he claims. He may not even be aware of the curse’s effects yet. There was a short moment after you left that he completely zoned out, and nothing I did would bring him out of it. It wasn’t until I touched him that he even seemed to realize that I was still in the room with him.”

Arthur chews on his lower lip thoughtfully. While Merlin wasn’t always the most attentive person he had ever met, he rarely ever lost track of where he was, and who he was with. There could be any number of reasons for it. Best case, killing the sorcerer erased all effects of the curse, and Merlin was simply just tired after the whole ordeal. Worst case, whatever the curse had intended to do to Arthur was now happening to Merlin instead. Merlin may be a clumsy idiot most of the time, but who knows what strengths the sorcerer’s magic would give him.

“If this magic has done something to his mind, what do you suggest we do? I believe that the sorcerer had intended for me to rip Camelot apart myself. We cannot allow Merlin to do that.” Arthur says, voice wavering only slightly over his implied threat. Gaius studies him intently for a long moment.

“I’m not sure, Sire. We can hope that nothing has happened, but my suggestion is to come up with a plan in case our worst fears come true. Your most trusted knights should be informed, and Merlin should have a close eye kept on him at all times. At least until we can be sure that there are no ill effects.” Gaius says, though it sounds like the words pain him just to say. Arthur studies him back.

“I trust your opinion, Gaius.” He informs the older man. “I need you to tell me the truth. Is it possible for Merlin to become a real threat to this kingdom?” Arthur forces himself to ask. To his surprise, Gaius actually winces at the question. He seems to hesitate before answering, like he doesn’t really want to tell his answer. “Gaius, please. I need to know what we could potentially be up against.”

Gaius glances away briefly before looking back and holding eye contact. “With the power behind this magic, there is no telling what Merlin may or may not be capable of.” He answers evasively. Still, it is answer enough. Arthur never thought he would live to see the day that _Merlin_ actually became a threat to anything, no matter how many times he has claimed to have saved Arthur’s life.

“Thank you, Gaius.” Arthur replies, voice stilted and tense. “I shall select a few of the people closest to Merlin to help keep an eye on him, and I guess we all must hope that Merlin remains unaffected.” He remains sitting as Gaius nods and gets to his feet. He pauses at the door, looking back at Arthur, which draws the king’s attention.

“Just out of curiosity, did Merlin seem distracted, or perhaps say anything on the way to see me?” He asks from the doorway.

Arthur purses his lips and thinks back. The whole event seemed like a blur now, but he doesn’t recall Merlin speaking at all. “No, why?” He asks.

Gaius looks thoughtful as he replies, “Because for that moment he was zoned out, he was looking around the room, almost like he was looking for something, or someone.”

Arthur sits up at that, giving the physician a wary look. “What does that mean?” He asks. To his dismay, Gaius only shrugs.

“I’m not sure.” He finally vocally replies. “However, it could mean that he is potentially hearing something that the rest of us can’t.” Gaius delivers the words in a way that makes them sound like no big deal, but Arthur can detect a hint of worry creasing the older man’s brow.

Arthur breathes out a heavy sigh. Steepling his fingers, Arthur says, “I’m assuming that I’m correct in thinking that is not a good thing?” Gaius looks back unshakingly.

“Yes. No matter what he is hearing or seeing, hallucinations like that are never a good sign.” Gaius replies, his concern leaking out into his voice. Arthur involuntarily flinches. He mumbles a _‘thank you’_ , to which Gaius bows again, and then leaves the room. The sound of the door closing echoes around the room, sounding much louder and more foreboding that Arthur can remember from before.

Leaning forward, Arthur scrubs at his face with both hands. The sorcerer’s words from before flood back into his mind. _‘No, I’m going to sit back and watch you destroy Camelot yourself. Your faithful people will watch you become the very monster that my kind know you to be.’_ What had the man meant by that? And what did it now mean for Merlin? He couldn’t bear the thought of anything happening to the man. He had come to mean so much to Arthur over the years that they had known each other. Closer than Arthur himself would really care to admit at times.

With a sigh, he sits back and pushes those thoughts aside. There was time later to dwell on the changing relationship between himself and his manservant. Right now, he had to focus on making sure that Merlin stayed himself, and reluctantly come up with a plan should things go sideways. The very thought makes him shiver. He won’t let it get to that point.

With a final sigh, he pushes to his feet and crosses to his wardrobe. He had informed George of his new duties for the next few days, but had assured the man that he would be fine on his own for the night. He dresses himself in his nightclothes, smiling faintly at the thought that Merlin would be so sarcastically and playfully proud at the seemingly momentous accomplishment. Thoughts of Merlin soon turn sour as he remembers their current predicament. Apparently, Merlin had been correct. Something bad had been on its way to Camelot.

Arthur lays down in bed, and proceeds to stare restlessly up at the canopy. Worst case scenarios ran through his head on a loop, each one worse than the last. They all end the same way: Merlin dying in Arthur’s arms. He forces the thoughts from his mind, instead turning his attention on ways that he could prevent the previous scenes from ever taking place. Tomorrow morning, he would call a council with his most trusted knights and Gaius. Together, he was sure they would reach a solution.


	3. Chapter 3

When Merlin wakes the next morning, it’s to a blistering headache. He lies in bed, immobile, as he clutches at his head, pitifully wishing the piercing pain to just go away. It doesn’t. Quite the opposite happens. The longer he is awake, the more acute the headache becomes, until it’s all he can focus on. Through the endless waves of pain, comes his now familiar, taunting voice.

“You know you can’t resist me forever. Just let me in. You’ll enjoy it, I promise.” Merlin feels a flash of annoyance, at what exactly, he isn’t sure, and opens his eyes. His magic pulses in his chest, and every drawer and door in his room opens and deposits it’s contents on the floor. Merlin groans as he looks around at the mess, insistent laughter tinkling in the back of his mind.

A knock on the door precedes Gaius popping his head into the room. “Merlin, is everything alright? I thought I heard something.” He stops as he takes in the state of the room, lifting a questioning eyebrow in Merlin’s direction. Merlin scrambles for a plausible excuse, but can’t think through the pain and laughter clouding his mind. “Merlin?”

Merlin gasps as Gaius suddenly appears in his field of vision, hand once again coming to rest on his shoulder. He once again notices that he is breathing hard and shaking slightly. Not as bad as yesterday, Merlin notes, but still bad enough for Gaius to notice. He wants to say something to put the man’s mind at ease, but can’t come up with anything.

“Tell him the truth, Merlin.” His mind unhelpfully supplies. “Tell him that you’re hearing voices, that you’re talking to yourself, and watch what he does. I bet he’ll tell the king. What will Arthur do? Have you locked away? I think he would.” Merlin physically shakes his head to rid himself of his own snarky voice. Gaius only looks more concerned at the motion.

“Merlin.” He says sternly. “I want to know the truth about what’s going on.” Merlin looks up into his father figure’s face in despair. He can’t tell him what is happening. His inner voice may be unwelcome, but it is right. Gaius would tell Arthur, and the pair of them would assume that he had gone insane. He would get himself locked away for sure if he admitted to hearing body-less voices talk to him.

“It’s nothing. Just a headache.” He lies instead, grimacing as his head spikes in pain.

Gaius looks reasonably concerned before straightening up. “I will go prepare a tincture that should help with the pain.” He says before leaving. The tension in Merlin’s chest, that he hadn’t even noticed before, eases once he is alone in his room again.

“Merlin.” The voice snaps. “I don’t like being ignored. I will have my way in the end. Your _gifts_ will only protect you for so long before they, too, bend to my will.” Merlin sits up properly and grits his teeth.

“Shut up.” He grumbles harshly. Something in his chest purrs at the subtle acknowledgment, and Merlin suddenly feels uneasy. As difficult as it is proving to be, he has to resist the urge to respond to whatever darkness the curse had implanted in his mind. The more he acknowledges its existence, the more powerful it is apparently becoming. He forces his mind to remain blank as he dresses for the day, then moves to exit his room. Before he can, he feels a momentary rush of hatred fill his heart. It’s gone as soon as it arrived, but still leaves Merlin feeling breathless.

He staggers out to join Gaius, earning himself a concerned look from the physician. He ignores it and merely stumbles across the room to sink down heavily at the table. Gaius doesn’t break the tense silence either as he places both breakfast and a small cup of something clear in front of Merlin. He looks at it warily for a moment, Gaius’s potions tended to not be very pleasant on the way down, before grabbing the cup and swallowing the contents down. He splutters only slightly as he sets the cup down. His eyes start watering slightly as Gaius joins him at the table.

Breakfast is a tense and awkward affair, for the first time that Merlin can remember. He doesn’t lie to Gaius, or keep things from him, very often, and it’s making the atmosphere in the room nearly unbearable. Gaius seems to be completely ignoring the obvious discomfort hanging over them like a persistent rain cloud. Perhaps he is waiting for Merlin to break first. If only he realized that Merlin couldn’t. Whatever was happening to him, he needed to figure out, and fix, on his own before anyone could get hurt.

“How is your head now?” Gaius asks amicably. There’s still a throbbing pain at his temples, but the sharp spikes of agony from before are gone. Although, Merlin can’t be sure that, that is due to Gaius’s potion or not.

“Better.” He says with a tense smile. He doesn’t want to say too much, lest he give something too truthful away. Gaius nods in satisfaction anyway, turning his attention back to breakfast. Merlin grits his teeth and carries on eating as well.

A moment later, Gaius breaks the silence again by saying, “Perhaps you should go and see Arthur today. I know he didn’t want to see you back at work for a few days, but he is quite concerned about your welfare. I am sure he would appreciate seeing you up on your feet and doing okay.” At the mention of Arthur’s name, that overwhelming and staggeringly strong feeling of hatred washes over him again. He drops his spoon back into the bowl with a clatter as he gasps and raises a hand to his head. Something dark and undeniably evil was slowly but surely worming its way further into his mind.

“Merlin, is there something you’re not telling me?” Gaius demands as Merlin slowly comes back to reality. Merlin stares down at the table, open-mouthed, as he tries to catch his breath.

Finally, he musters up the strength to say, “I’m not so sure that’s a good idea.” When Gaius lifts his eyebrow, demanding more of an answer, he carries on. “You know what Arthur can be like when his orders aren’t followed. If he doesn’t want to see me around for a few days, I’m probably better off just keeping my distance.”

“Since when do you so willingly follow the king’s orders?” Gaius counters, confused as to why Merlin should be so adamant about following Arthur’s decisions now when he never has in the past.

“I just don’t want to see him.” Merlin snaps in a rush of anger. He pales immediately, ducking his head in shame as Gaius looks taken aback. “Sorry.” He mumbles.

Gaius studies him with wary concern. “Are you sure that you’re feeling well, Merlin? You’ve never lost you temper like that before.”

Merlin winces, and refuses to meet Gaius’s gaze. He doesn’t know what’s happening. He doesn’t understand these sudden and fleeting bouts of anger and frustration. He has no obvious reason to be feeling this way, which seems to just be making it worse. He hears himself chuckle in his head, humourless and pleased all the same. This isn’t _him_ feeling this way, per se. It’s the darker version of himself that has found a home in his mind that is influencing his moods, and actions, and words. But how does he tell Gaius that without sounding crazy?

“You can’t.” He hears the nasty murmur in his head, and he subconsciously slumps in defeat. Maybe there really is no escape from whatever that curse appears to have done to him. His body seems to scream _finally_ as that thought sifts through his brain, and the feeling terrifies him. “That’s right. There’s no escaping _me_ , Merlin. There’s no escaping _yourself_.”

Merlin falters before getting to his feet. “I need to go. You’re right, I’m not really feeling like myself this morning. I’ll go collect herbs, or something. Clear my head.” He stumbles slightly as he searches for a bag, then heads for the door. He ignores the physician’s calls for him to come back as he slips out into the castle hall and heads for the stairs that will eventually lead him outside.

He bursts out into the square, eyes burning slightly as the sudden onslaught of direct sunlight. The people going about their business all ignore him as he slowly makes his way down the stone steps. With every step he takes, he feels himself slowly being able to breathe a little easier. Everyone else’s concerns for him were making him see problems where there were none. Maybe all he really needed was some alone time in the fresh air. He takes a stuttering breath and starts to make his way across the courtyard. Unfortunately, he doesn’t get far before someone calls out his name.

Merlin grudgingly comes to a halt as Gwaine jogs to catch up with him. “Merlin.” He greets with a toothy grin. “Where are you off to?”

Merlin gives the knight a confused look before replying, “Collecting herbs for Gaius.” He gives Gwaine a shrewd look. “Why?”

His friend looks away, almost in embarrassment, before meeting his eyes again. “Perhaps I should come with you. You never know who or what could be lurking outside the city walls.” He says, stepping closer. Merlin frowns. He’s never had so many people worried about him in his life.

“I really don’t think that’ll be an issue, but thanks anyway.” Merlin half turns to leave, but Gwaine catches his elbow, pulling him to a stop. Merlin looks down at Gwaine’s hand, and for one small moment of time, he actually thinks about using his magic against his friend. He actually contemplates blasting the offending grip off of his arm and sending the knight hurtling across the square.

“Do it.” The voice urges him. “You know what’s happening. Arthur doesn’t trust you, so he’s sent your so called friends to spy on you. Do it. Get rid of him!” Merlin pulls sharply away, surprising Gwaine enough that he lets go. He looks up at Gwaine for a moment in shock, feeling horrified at what his head had told him to do. What he had briefly considered doing. Gwaine was his friend!

“Uhm, s-sure.” Merlin stammers. “You can come if you want.” He drops his gaze, unable to look his friend in the eyes any longer.

“Are you—“ Gwaine starts to ask, but Merlin cuts him off.

“Please don’t ask if I’m okay.” He groans. “I have had more than my fill of answering that question.” He scowls down at their boots, once again succumbing to the frustration blooming in his chest.

“Hey.” Gwaine says, gently touching his wrist to try to pull his attention back. When Merlin keeps his eyes determinedly downcast, he continues. “We’re just concerned about you. We just want to make sure that you’re all right.”

Merlin snaps his gaze up. “Well don’t!” He says heatedly. “How is pestering me going to make me feel any better, anyway?” Gwaine looks shocked at Merlin’s outburst, and Merlin groans and reaches up a hand to rub at his eyes. “Sorry, I’m just... tired. Didn’t sleep well last night.” He apologizes.

Gwaine looks like he wants to say something, probably along the lines of, _‘perhaps you should go back to bed, then’,_ but he smartly decides to keep his mouth shut. Instead, he just nods, then gestures for Merlin to lead the way. Merlin has to bite back an annoyed remark as he does so. Apparently, he wasn’t going to get out of the city without a chaperone.

“You’re a coward, Merlin.” The voice sneers, and Merlin flinches. Gwaine shoots him a concerned look, but actually keeps his mouth shut. “You can still free yourself of your armed guard. It’ll be easier to hide outside the citadel.” Merlin grits his teeth, literally biting his tongue until he draws blood in his attempt to not reply. He will not hurt his friend. He refuses to become what this curse wants him to become. As Gwaine relaxes and proceeds to start talking about anything, and everything, Merlin feels his fists clench at his sides. Resisting that pull inside his mind was slowly becoming more and more difficult.

~~~

Gaius was sitting at his workbench, staring at the wall, when Arthur found him. He knocked on the door again, calling the physician’s name in an attempt to draw his attention. He then proceeds to apologize as the older man startles rather violently and almost ends up on the floor. Gaius just brushes him off, instead gesturing for Arthur to come further into the room. Arthur spots the door to Merlin’s room open, and the space beyond empty.

“Where’s Merlin?” He asks.

“Out gathering herbs for me, apparently. That’s all he said before rushing out.” Gaius replies. Arthur opens his mouth to ask if he had gone alone, but Gaius seems to anticipate the question. “I saw Gwaine catch him outside before he could take off alone. They left the courtyard together, but Merlin hardly looked happy about it.”

This information surprises Arthur. He had specifically asked Gwaine, Lancelot, and Gwen to keep an eye on Merlin because the man had seemed quite close with all three. Definitely closer than he was with anyone else. To hear that Merlin was less than pleased to have Gwaine’s company was concerning to him.

“How is Merlin this morning?” He asks hesitantly. He isn’t sure he will be able to really stomach the answer. Gaius sighs and presses his lips into a thin line. Arthur can see plainly on his face that he’s worried as well. That only makes Arthur’s own concern sky rocket.

“It’s hard to say. He was afflicted with a bad headache when he woke, but assured me that the tincture I made him helped.” The physician pauses, but Arthur sense that there is more coming. “He was still out of it this morning and... well, he seemed to have a bit of a short temper.”

“ _Merlin_?” Arthur asks incredulously. Surely he had heard that wrong. He had never known his servant to be overly temperamental or snappy about anything. True, everyone had their off days, but there was always a reason behind Merlin’s. As far as Arthur could tell, nothing had happened lately to cause such a shift in Merlin’s usually bright mood. Nothing except the curse yesterday. “What did you say to bring about this short temper?”

Gaius obviously pauses, and Arthur feels mildly guilty at pushing for information. This was, after all, Merlin life, and clearly some parts of it didn’t need to be shared with the king. As much as he may want to, Arthur didn’t need to know about every aspect of Merlin’s life. Finally, Gaius inhales deeply and says, “I suggested he go and see you. To put your mind at ease about his well-being.”

Arthur’s mind actually stops working for a moment as he stares at Gaius is shock. “Me?” He finally splutters. “He got upset because he didn’t want to come and see me?” He isn’t entirely sure how to feel about that. He had considered Merlin a close friend for years now, and he had assumed that Merlin viewed him as much the same. Had he been wrong all this time?

“He first tried to reason that it was because you had ordered him to rest, but when I pushed further, he simply snapped. Granted, he apologized after, but for that brief moment, Merlin didn’t look like Merlin. There was a darkness lurking in his eyes. A darkness that I fear may be trying to take control.”

Arthur isn't entirely sure what to do with this particular information. Was he supposed to lock Merlin up until he was back to normal? Was he supposed to sit him down and talk things out? All his time as a prince, and now as a king, he had never faced this kind of situation before. Certainly not with Merlin. He takes a minute or two to process all he’s heard, and sorts it in with everything that he already knows. He’s frustrated to find that he is no closer to an answer than he was before.

After a deep breath, he asks, “What does all this mean? Not just for Merlin, but for everyone in Camelot?” He decides that he doesn’t like the look in the physician’s eyes as Gaius looks away.

Gaius replies in a shaky voice, “I think it might be safe to say that we may very well be facing our deepest fears coming true. Merlin might be on his way to becoming a danger to himself, and to everyone that calls Camelot home.”

Arthur physically takes a step back at the words. They’re painful to hear, and too awful to even fully comprehend. “What do we do, Gaius? How do we save him?” He asks, voice hoarse and choked in his throat.

“We must find a way to break the curse before Merlin can get any worse.” Gaius replies resignedly, already moving to pull books from his shelves.

~~~

The further they got into the forest, the more irritated Merlin became. He had wanted to come out here to be alone. He truly believed that all he needed in order to feel more like himself was some solitude and fresh air. Apparently, one of the two was not good enough. Usually, Merlin didn’t mind Gwaine’s need to fill every silence. He enjoyed talking to his friend, and listening to his insane, and probably only slightly truthful, tales about his life before Camelot, and his shenanigans now that he was here to stay. Today, however, was not one of those days. He needed to get in touch with himself, and he couldn’t do that with Gwaine’s incessant chatter.

“You know how to fix the problem, Merlin.” The voice urged loudly, as if someone were speaking directly into his ear. He turns his head away from Gwaine as he grimaces. No. He would not hurt his friend. He would regret doing any harm to Gwaine, fatal or otherwise. He looks around the forest floor, hoping to spot something that could be useful to take back to Gaius. Anything that might distract Gwaine for even a solitary moment. To his dismay, nothing was catching his eye.

“Gwaine,” he finally says, just this side of sharply, “could we just take a break for a bit? I have a headache.” He isn’t lying, necessarily. His headache from this morning has come back with a vengeance, along with the seemingly never ending buzz of whispers and breaths of taunting laughter. He doesn’t look at his companion, not wanting to know how bruised his friend may, or may not, look at his snappish demand. Much to his relief, however, Gwaine does fall silent. For a few minutes at least.

“Merlin.” Gwaine says softly, hesitantly, and Merlin grits his teeth in irritation. He takes a deep breath to try to soothe his obviously frayed nerves.

“What?” He asks, as pleasantly as he can get. Gwaine looks him over silently, further setting him on edge. “What?” He demands more harshly.

“I know you don’t want me to ask,” Gwaine sighs, “but is everything okay? You don’t seem like yourself.” Merlin can feel the voice inside wanting to whisper nasty things to him, so he tries his best to block it out before it has the chance.

Offering up a small smile, Merlin replies, “I’m fine, Gwaine. Just tired, honestly. I guess no one can get hit with a curse and still be fine the next day.” He shrugs, playing the whole things off as a joke. Gwaine smiles back, but it doesn’t reach his eyes like it usually does. He doesn’t appear to believe Merlin either. The following tense silence allows Merlin’s mind to wander, and the voice to slither its way back into his conscious thoughts.

“Getting rid of this insignificant man will show Arthur what you’re truly capable of. No longer will the king view you as small. You'll get the respect you deserve.” The voice is still his own, but it’s morphed into something slimy, and thick with rot and evil. Merlin can practically taste it on his tongue, and he staggers to a stop.

“No.” He whispers harshly under his breath. “Go away.” He adds in a demanding hiss. Gwaine stops beside him, looking confused.

“Go away?” He asks. “Merlin, if I’m bothering you, just tell me.” Gwaine says, a hint of rejection in his voice. That dark _thing_ that has taken root in Merlin’s chest preens at the pain. Merlin jerks at the feeling.

“No.” He says, looking at his friend. “Not you. I meant... nothing. Let’s just go back.” He spins on his heel and promptly starts marching back the way they had come, completely empty handed. Gwaine watches his now retreating back in confusion before starting to follow. He had to hurry his pace to catch up.

Merlin doesn’t speak again as they head back to the castle walls. He’s too busy trying to push back the silky laughter ringing around in his head. He feels flashes of dark feelings, ugly feelings, with every step he takes. Lust for power, a hunger for pain, a deep hatred, a burning rage, a desire to feel blood running down between his fingertips. That one sends him over the edge and he topples to his hands and knees and vomits. Gwaine shouts something and rushes to his side, wrapping an arm around his shaking shoulders. He shakes the arm off as he slowly gets to his feet.

“I’m fine.” He mumbles to Gwaine’s hurt face. “Just leave me alone.” He pushes on, leaving his stunned friend behind. He takes notice of the fact that Gwaine doesn’t hurry to catch up this time.

“Good.” The voice purrs. “Stop pushing me aside, Merlin. You can’t fight yourself.” At the lack of footsteps behind him, Merlin feels his resolve weaken a little more.


	4. Chapter 4

Arthur was troubled. After hearing Gwaine’s account of their trip out of the city, Arthur had grown even more concerned for Merlin. His behaviour was off, definitely. He had spoken with Gaius shortly after his knight and servant had returned, and they had both agreed that perhaps Merlin should return to work sooner rather than later. Maybe the normalcy of his usual routine would help bring him back from whatever dangerous precipice he was teetering along the edge of. The only problem was that Merlin didn’t return to normal. In fact, Arthur hardly ever saw him. It was almost like Merlin was doing his best to go about his day, finishing his chores, while staying as far away from Arthur as he possibly could at all times. The distance left something cold in Arthur’s heart.

“Merlin.” He says blearily as his servant flings open the curtains covering the windows. Merlin hums in reply, but doesn’t actually acknowledge him. Instead, he is already pulling clothes out of the wardrobe and draping them over the changing screen. He refuses to even look at Arthur. The king feels a flash of guilt when he has to order, “Merlin, I want you to look at me when I’m talking to you.”

Merlin pauses, hand on the now closed wardrobe door. For a moment, it looks like he is going to ignore Arthur’s demand. It definitely wouldn’t be the first time he was disobedient. It would be the first time that Merlin’s potential disobedience filled Arthur with such dread. However, after a deliberating moment, Merlin turns to face him. Arthur notices that while Merlin is looking in his direction, he isn’t actually looking at him. He’s staring vaguely at something over Arthur’s shoulder. Oh well. It’ll have to do.

“I want you to tell me how you’re feeling.” He says when Merlin doesn’t say anything. He watches as Merlin’s jaw clenches, and for a very brief moment, his eyes flick to meet Arthur’s and darken slightly. Then he blinks rapidly and looks away. His eyes clear, but he looks shaken up.

“I’m fine, Arthur.” Merlin replies, but Arthur doesn’t believe him. After what Gaius had said, and what Gwaine had told him, how could he? His chest tightens at the knowledge that Merlin is lying to him. What else is he keeping from the king?

Merlin hasn’t moved since answering his question, but he looks anything but at ease. His body is tense, and his eyes keep quickly drifting to Arthur’s chamber doors like he wants to be anywhere but here with the king. Arthur sighs, unhappily accepting the fact that he isn’t going to get anywhere with his servant.

“You will tell me if that changes?” He asks, so desperate for Merlin to just be open and talk to him. Merlin flinches ever so slightly.

“Of course.” He replies easily, but he’s still lying. Arthur’s heart breaks a little more.

“Very well. You may go, finish whatever duties you have today.” He says reluctantly. Something about Merlin’s behaviour is making Arthur want to keep him close. Protect him at all costs. As Merlin all but runs for the doors, Arthur gets the feeling that Merlin doesn’t want that. He seems to want to be as far away from Arthur as he can get. His thoughts stay firmly glued to Merlin and his troubling and odd behaviour as he rushes through eating his breakfast. He has to go and see Gaius. Hopefully the physician has found a way to break this damn curse.

~~~

Merlin’s gut is still roiling with hate and anger as he takes hurried steps down the hall and away from Arthur’s chambers. He had been reluctant to return to work for this very reason. Every time that Arthur’s name was so much as mentioned in passing, Merlin was overcome with the darkest feelings he has ever experienced. It had started out small and short lived. He could quite easily push them aside, but once he was back in Arthur’s direct presence, they became harder to ignore. The voice in his head urging him to inflict pain only got louder with every passing day. With every passing hour. His insistence that he was fine, however, meant that he could no longer shirk his duties as Arthur’s servant.

Merlin had admittedly struggled through his first day back, but had very quickly fallen into a routine that seemed to work. He did the bare minimum that was required of him in the king’s actual presence, and did the rest once Arthur was no longer around. It didn’t stop the steadily growing desire to inflict pain and cause damage, but it seemed to ease the urges a little. In Merlin’s opinion, something was better than nothing at all. Arthur was very clearly unpleased with the new arrangement, but Merlin couldn’t exactly explain to him why it was necessary. That admission would only get him killed.

“No it wouldn’t.” The silky voice in his head tells him. “There is no one, man or woman, here that can hurt you if you don’t want them to. You are stronger than all of Camelot combined.” Merlin nearly stumbles into the wall as his magic betrays him for a moment and reaches out to the voice and the darkness it was spreading throughout Merlin’s whole body. Merlin has to squeeze his eyes closed and take a few deep breaths to get it back under his control.

“No.” He whispers to the empty hall. “I will not let you win.” He had broken about a day and a half ago, and had started responding to the voice, fighting it. Hopefully.

“You already are.” It sneers back, and Merlin’s mind reels. Unbidden tears spring to his eyes and he has to swallow thickly before he can even feel like he can breathe.

He chokes out a desperate, “You’re wrong.” He gets a bark of laughter in response, but nothing else. Merlin gulps in a deep breath of air has his head clears slightly and he can stand up straight again. He hadn’t even realized that he had ended up slumped against the wall throughout his exchange with himself. He glances around, thankful to find the hall still blessedly empty. The last thing he needs is some housemaid witnessing his slow slip into insanity.

A rash of irritation spreads over his whole body as he swings into the stairwell and nearly collides with Gwen. After recovering her balance, she looks up into his face with such open concern, that he wants to snap at her. His hands actually twitch at his sides as the voice tells him to push her backwards. He twists his hands into his tunic to try to control them.

“Merlin, how are you?” She asks pleasantly, and Merlin nearly rolls his eyes. How many times is he going to be asked that question before everyone shoves off?

“Why don’t you ask Arthur?” He snaps. “He’s already asked me that question today.” He waits for his usual rush of guilt as Gwen’s face registers genuine hurt, but it never comes. His stomach clenches uneasily at that.

Gwen mumbles, “I’m sorry.” Her eyes dart away for a moment before swinging back to meet his dead on. “It’s just, you’ve been acting strangely, and we’re all worried about you.” She adds on, her own annoyance lacing her tone. Merlin’s skin tingles pleasantly at the prospect of a fight. He already has a nasty retort building on his tongue when he realizes what he’s doing. He chokes as he swallows the words. Gwen continues to look concerned, but doesn’t say anything.

Merlin takes a steadying breath of air before replying, “I know, and I’m sorry.” The apology tastes bitter on his tongue. “I know you’re all just looking out for me, but please stop. All I’m feeling is suffocated. I can’t go more than five minutes without someone else popping by to see how I’m doing. Maybe I would be better if everyone just left me alone!” His voice has risen in volume as the words tumbled past his lips, until he’s on the verge of yelling by the time he’s finished. His chest is heaving as he breathes angrily, and he has to consciously focus on it to slow it down.

“Okay.” Gwen says, shocked. “I’ll just leave you to it.” Merlin nods firmly and starts on his way down the stairs. He pauses at the bottom when Gwen calls his name. Looking back, he almost sees tears in her eyes. She says, “I’m sorry.” Merlin sets his jaw and walks away without replying.

Once Merlin reaches the armoury, he falls to his knees and grips blindly at his hair. What was he doing? He wasn’t fighting hard enough. He was weak, too weak to stay in control for much longer. But he had to. In order to keep his friends safe, he had to remain in control. The physical effort it was taking was exhausting. He feared that it was only going to get worse. More difficult. More useless to fight.

“That’s right. Give up now. You’re not strong enough to hold on much longer. It’ll be so much easier if you just let me in.” The voice is steadily growing more twisted and dark every time it spoke to him. It was becoming so strong that at times he was catching his own thoughts being spoken in the same inky tones. A spike of fear lodges in his heart. There was no saying what unspeakable things he could do if this evil the curse had created got its way. With so much power surging through his veins, he could probably destroy all of Camelot with a single thought.

“I won’t let that happen.” He grits out through clenched teeth before stubbornly ignoring the shiver inducing laughter in his head and proceeding further into the armoury. He had come down here to polish Arthur’s armour. He has to consciously force down the contempt that surges in his stomach as he touches the king’s armour.

Just as he predicted, he’s only alone for about fifteen minutes when the door to the armoury opens. He looks up from polishing the vambrace clutched in his hand, and is met with Lancelot’s small and reassuring smile. There isn’t a trace of worry or concern anywhere on the man’s soft features, and for that, Merlin is grateful. He’s had enough of pitiful glances and worried stares.

“Merlin.” He inclines his head as he slowly approaches, like he has all the time in the world, and isn’t actually here on a secret agenda for the king. “Gwen told me that you snapped at her.” He says conversationally, as if he was talking about something as mundane as the weather.

Merlin bristles subconsciously. “Is everyone talking about me, then?” He asks instead of answering. Lancelot raises an eyebrow at him silently. Merlin looks away and goes back to his polishing.

“Look, I know something is bothering you. We all do. I’m not here because Arthur asked me to be, I’m here because you are my friend, and you’re important to me.” Lancelot states diplomatically. Sounds exactly like something Arthur would tell him to say.

“I don’t see how incessantly bothering me is supposed to make me feel any better.” Merlin grouches, polishing the piece of armour more forcefully. His hand slips and he scrapes his knuckles along the edge. Lancelot reaches out to touch him as he hisses and retracts his hand. They’ve almost made contact when Merlin notices and stiffens, his magic automatically surging to the surface and halting Lancelot’s hand in mid air.

“Don’t touch me.” He says disdainfully. Lancelot looks reasonably shocked as Merlin lifts hard, dark eyes to look at him. He had never been on the receiving end of Merlin’s magic before. Merlin’s head tilts a little to the side, and for one heart-stopping moment, Lancelot feels his hand being forced toward the sword sheathed at his waist.

“Merlin.” Lancelot says forcefully. He doesn’t even register Lancelot’s voice for a few seconds before he suddenly comes back to himself and realizes what he’s doing. He jumps to his feet, armour laid out around him crashing to the floor. His magic once again slumbers and Lancelot’s arm is freed. Merlin is gasping for breath as he backs away, eyes wide and terrified. What was he doing? Lancelot takes a step toward him, and he jumps back, a shield on the wall crashing to the floor.

“Please, just stay away from me.” He begs. Lancelot frowns, hesitates, then reluctantly does as Merlin had asked.

He looks over Merlin’s wild expression before gently speaking. “Merlin, what is going on?” His voice is so smooth and soothing that Merlin feels the shaking in his body ease somewhat.

“I—I don’t know.” He wheezes, before adding, “Please don’t tell Arthur. I can fix this. I can stop whatever this is, just please don’t tell anyone.” He knows that he’s asking a lot from his friend. This is undoubtedly the exact kind of thing that Arthur would want to be informed about. Only Merlin hadn’t told him about his magic yet. This was definitely not how he wanted him to find out.

Lancelot looks torn before finally nodding. “Okay, I won’t tell him.” He says solemnly. “But I want you to promise me that you are going to figure out what’s going on and stop it.”

Merlin nods frantically. “Yes. Yes, I promise.” He rushes out, voice choking on the words. His head pulses with pain that he’s by now associated to whenever he outwardly speaks about stopping the curse. The agony in his head hasn’t fully gone away since it arrived the morning after the curse. It ebbs and flows like a tide, depending on whether he’s fighting or giving in to his mind’s wishes and demands.

Even now, the voice is screaming in his head, sending shockwaves of pain through his skull. “Finish him, Merlin! Don’t you know he’s lying? He’s going to tell Arthur everything that happened here, and then guess what? The king will have you executed. Only _I_ can keep your head on your shoulders and your body out of the flames!”

Merlin whimpers and sinks to his knees, hands clutched desperately at his head. He’s mumbling something under his breath, but he can’t make out the words over the angry yelling in his ears. He’s vaguely aware of Lancelot rushing toward him, of his magic prickling warningly as the knight grips his shoulders. He sees Lancelot’s lips moving, but hears no sound. Then he vanishes and strong arms are wrapping around his shoulders and heaving him up to his feet. He struggles in their hold, but they’re too strong for his weakening body to fight off. His magic pushes against his control more forcefully, and he catches a single word as it passes his lips. “Stop.”

~~~

Arthur and Gaius both jump as the door bursts open. Lancelot enters, half-carrying Merlin. The man is pale, and shaking, and is clutching at his head as he mumbles nonsense. Arthur is immediately on his feet and rushing to help as Lancelot drags Merlin further into Gaius’s chambers.

“What happened?” Gaius demands as he hastily gets to his feet and clears a spot to put Merlin down.

Lancelot meets his eyes helplessly. “I don’t know. One minute he was fine, the next he was like this. He’s been holding his head, but I didn’t see him hit it.” The knight explains as he and Arthur lower Merlin down.

“Where did you find him?” Arthur asks, trying to distract himself from the sight of Merlin once again whimpering in pain.

“The armoury.” Lancelot replies, tone implying the unspoken question of, _‘Why?’_

Arthur meets his eyes with another question. “What were you talking about?”

Lancelot shifts uncomfortably. “He had snapped at Guinevere earlier. I had merely asked him why.” He replies. Arthur gets the feeling that there is more to the story than Lancelot is letting on. However, now was not the time or place to push for more answers.

“Hold him down.” Gaius orders. Lancelot and Arthur both move to obey. Merlin strains against their hold with surprising strength. “I’m going to give him a powerful sleeping draught. Only then can I examine him more closely.” Arthur resists the urge to tell the physician to hurry as Merlin tries to sit up. It takes all of Arthur’s strength just to keep the lanky man’s shoulders on the table top. One quick look at Lancelot shows that he’s having much the same issue. Since when was Merlin, of all people, this strong?

Gaius is there the next instant, opening Merlin’s mouth and pouring a liquid in. Merlin convulses under Arthur’s grip as his body chokes and tries to spit the draught out. Gaius tilts his head back, holding the man’s nose closed and jaw firmly shut.

“Swallow, Merlin!” Gaius instructs loudly. For a minute longer, Merlin continues to gag and jerk, then he swallows. Soon after, he goes still. Lancelot and Arthur reluctantly loosen their grip, ready to jump back in and hold him down should it be necessary. Merlin remains still on the table top.

“What was that?” Arthur cries, lifting frantic eyes up to meet the physician’s.

“I’m afraid I don’t know, Sire.” Gaius replies. “I will have to take a closer look and see what I can find. In the meantime, I suggest you send Gwen up here with some fresh water. I may require her assistance in my examination.” Gaius immediately turns his attention to Merlin. Arthur knows a dismissal when he sees one, and while he isn’t used to being on the receiving end of one now that he is king, he still complies. For Merlin’s sake.

“Lancelot.” He says, stopping the man outside the door. “Is there anything else you can tell me about what happened? Did Merlin say anything? Do anything?” He asks desperately. His knight looks helplessly back.

“No.” He croaks. Arthur isn’t sure that he fully believes him. He turns to leave, but Lancelot places a hand on his shoulder. “Wait, there was one thing.” He says. Arthur looks at him, silently telling him to continue. “As we were making our way here, he was muttering nonsense. There was one word that came out clearly, though. Stop.”

Arthur raises his eyebrows. “Stop?” He asks. “Stop what?”

Lancelot shrugs. “I don’t know, Sire.” He looks pained as he glances at the physician’s closed door. “He was delirious. I’m not sure even he knows what he meant by it.” He has a melancholy air about him as he moves away, leaving Arthur alone. He hears a whimper from inside and hastily turns away. He has to find Gwen.

Something terrified is clawing at his chest as he moves through the castle. He encounters a couple other servants, and informs them that he is looking for Guinevere. They both bow respectfully and tell him that they will let her know should they see her. It feels like hours, but in reality is probably only minutes, when he sees Gwen hurrying around a corner up ahead of him. They spot each other at the same time.

“Arthur, what is it? I was told you were looking for me.” She says as she gets closer.

“Gaius has requested your assistance. Take some fresh water up to his chambers and assist him in any way he needs.” He orders, words catching slightly in his throat. Gwen catches the sound.

“What is it?” She asks urgently.

“Merlin.” Is all Arthur can manage to breathe out past his constricted throat. Gwen nods grimly and rushes off to do as she’s told. Arthur watches her leave until she rounds a corner and is out of sight. Arthur stands there, feeling lost and helpless in his own castle. He has no idea what to do. How is he supposed to help Merlin when he doesn’t have the slightest inkling on where to start?

With a heavy sigh, he turns and makes his way to his chambers. He has no official business today, and the events with Merlin had pushed all thoughts of having fun from his mind. He probably should have seen this coming, and maybe he did, he’s just didn’t want to believe it. He had seen Merlin grow more withdrawn in the days following the attack from the sorcerer. He had watched Merlin become more out of it, and moodier, with each passing day. Now he was practically collapsing for no apparent reason. He didn’t know how much longer he could watch Merlin go through this, but he didn’t know what he could do to help. That deep fear that Merlin was going to snap completely grew even larger in his chest as he slipped into his chambers.


	5. Chapter 5

A few days after the incident with Lancelot, and Merlin was still feeling sluggish and groggy. To anyone that asked, he blamed it on the lingering effects from the sleeping draught Gaius had been forced to give him. In his head, though, he knew that was a lie. He knew his control was weakening. He had briefly let the darkness take over when he let his magic try to force Lancelot to impale himself on his own sword. It had felt like waking from a nightmare. Apparently, once he had let the curse win once, it only craved control even more. Stopping himself from giving in to those dark desires was taking more of a toll on his body. He knew that, that was the real reason behind his struggling the past couple days.

He awoke in his room, the same way he had almost every day since arriving in Camelot, only this morning, there was a hint of unfamiliarity about it. A disjointed sense of not belonging clouded his mind as he sat up and scrubbed tiredly at his face. He lets out a troubled sigh as he ponders the day ahead. Lately, just getting out of bed was proving to be a difficult enough task. Actually performing his duties to both Gaius and Arthur seemed like a feat well out of his reach.

A knock at the door draws his attention outward. “Merlin, you better hurry or you’ll be late for work.” Just as it has for the past two weeks, the mere hint of Arthur made Merlin’s nerves growl. The only difference being now, it was nearing impossible for Merlin to push it aside and ignore. Being anywhere near Arthur was wreaking so much havoc on Merlin’s body and mind that he was genuinely worried that he was being ripped apart from the inside.

“The Royal Prat can wait a few minutes longer.” He intones weakly. He had been severely pushing the limits lately with Arthur due to the fact that he was actually scared about what might happen if he spent too much time with him. When Gaius raises his eyebrow at him, Merlin merely grunts. He doesn’t really care about the old man’s opinion anymore. The door closes again without another comment from the physician.

Merlin huffs out an exhausted breath and reluctantly gets to his feet. The pain in his head has lessened significantly today, and he knows that should most definitely concern him, but it doesn’t. In fact, he’s grateful to not he welcomed into consciousness by a splitting pain in his skull. The voice in his head has also not made its presence known yet, which Merlin finds odd, but refuses to linger on. For the first time in two weeks, he’s completely alone as he dresses, and he doesn’t much care to look that gift horse in the mouth.

As usual, Gaius is waiting with breakfast as Merlin emerges from his room. Merlin looks at the steaming bowl with some mild disgust, but forces himself to sit and choke down the food anyway. Not to be polite, but because he has this vague feeling in his bones that he won’t be getting the chance to eat again for a while. He’s surprised to not even find himself questioning that fact. He keeps his silence as he eats, ignoring the old man across from him. He knows that he is receiving another concerned stare, but even that doesn’t seem to be bothering him today.

Upon finishing breakfast, Merlin rises to his feet and makes his way to the door. He hears movement behind him, but doesn’t look back. He really doesn’t care what the physician is doing. That, too, should strike him as odd, but it doesn’t. It’s almost like some kind of buffer has descended upon him, perhaps while he slept, and he just doesn’t care about anything or anyone around him. It’s a pleasant change from the whiplash of feelings and emotions from the past couple weeks.

“Merlin.” Gaius’s voice makes him pause. He looks back over his shoulder expectantly. “Are you quite well? You don’t seem yourself this morning.” Meaning he isn’t in pain and struggling to hold himself together anymore. Merlin would much rather this sense of calmness than the feeling of panic from before.

He cocks his head to the side and sneers, “Perhaps you should concern yourself more with your actual job, and less about me.” Then he’s moving again, ignoring the physician’s calls to come back behind him. As he steps out the door, he hears his voice again.

“Hello, Merlin.” It greets him pleasantly. For the first time, Merlin doesn’t flinch away from it. “I think today will be a good day. Don’t you?” Merlin feels a smile curling at his lips as he silently agrees. Yes, today very much feels like it’s going to be a very good day indeed.

He moves through the castle languidly, ignoring the smiles and greetings from the other passing serving boys and girls. They all look at him oddly as he passes them by without so much as a glance in their direction. The aloofness is uncharacteristic for him. Usually, he goes out of his way to greet everyone he passes. It’s a habit that Arthur had tried to break at first, before finally giving in and just accepting that his servant was overly friendly and nothing was going to change that. However, no one actually stops him, or comments on his behaviour after seeing this stoic face.

Retrieving the king’s breakfast tray, he glares the cook into stunned silence before she can even start in on her lecture about when Merlin _should_ have been there. His smile curls further up on one side as all the kitchen staff shrink away from him. He preens in his silent victory as he leaves the kitchens and starts making his way to Arthur’s chambers. He passes Gwen on the way in much the same fashion as he had passed everyone else. Not even noticing her existence. She moves on a few more paces before stopping to look back at him over her shoulder.

“Merlin!” She calls. He grinds to a halt, rolling his eyes before half turning to look at her.

“Yes?” He asks disinterestedly.

Gwen looks troubled as she says, “Has something happened? You’re a lot more... _reserved_ than you usually are.” Merlin has to fight back a full on smirk.

“Everything is fine.” He replies breezily. “Don’t you think if something had happened, especially if it involved me, the whole entire castle would know about it by now? I am everyone’s favourite topic of conversation, after all.” She opens her mouth to say something, but he’s already turning away and continuing on his way to the king’s chambers. She watches him go wordlessly, but something feels off to her. An alarm is ringing in the back of her mind, warning her that something was wrong. Once Merlin is out of sight, she turns and hurries off to find Gaius.

Arthur is still asleep when Merlin enters his chambers, but the way he bangs the doors open jolts him awake. Merlin ignores his pointed glare and drops the breakfast tray on the table with a clatter. Arthur splutters something unintelligible and Merlin pays him no mind as he moves to open the curtains. Early morning sunlight streams in, bathing the room in a pleasant, golden glow.

“ _Mer_ lin.” Arthur finally snaps, gaining the attention of his servant. Merlin looks at him with an eyebrow quirked in impassive question. Arthur gestures to the mess of breakfast sat on his table, as if that’s supposed to give Merlin any indication as to what the man wants.

“What?” Merlin finally resigns himself to ask apathetically. Arthur stares at him incredulously for a moment.

“ _What_?” He mimics. “Have you hit your head or something?” He demands.

Merlin glares at him coldly. “You shouldn’t let him talk to us like that, Merlin.” His voice says in his ear. “We could end his pathetic reign with the crook of a finger. He really should show us more respect.” It adds on. Merlin finds himself agreeing.

“No.” He almost snarls. Arthur stares at him in wide-eyed shock. He doesn’t add anything else, just turns and starts riffling through Arthur’s wardrobe carelessly in an attempt to find the king something to wear. He tosses the clothes over the changing screen and turns to face the king, finding him still in bed. His lip curls in contempt, the feeling filling him up so wholly that he has trouble focusing on anything else. For once, the sensation doesn’t bother him.

“Merlin.” Arthur says slowly, then stops, seemingly at a loss for words. Merlin snorts out a humourless laugh.

“Get up, get dressed, and eat breakfast. You may be _king_ , but that doesn’t mean you get to be a lazy sod.” He says, lacing the word ‘king’ with as much contempt as he can. The shock on Arthur’s face only intensified, making something in Merlin’s chest squirm with delight.

“Good, Merlin.” His voice praises. “Don’t let him walk all over us anymore. We are more powerful than he will ever be.” Merlin turns to leave, but hears the rustling of bed linens behind him. His body goes on high alert, his magic warning him of a possible attack. He whirls around and catches Arthur’s wrist moments before the king’s hand could land on his shoulder.

“I wouldn’t touch me, if I were you.” He growls, the beast inside raising its hackles and getting ready to strike. Arthur frowns and tries to pull his hand back, but Merlin tightens his grip. He smiles as he watches the king actually wince slightly. Only then does he let go, thrusting the king’s hand back at his chest. “I have other things to do. I’ll be back to ready you for training.”

He pulls the door open unceremoniously and waltz out, leaving a stunned Arthur behind. He only makes it about a quarter of the way down the hall when he hears Arthur’s distinctive voice say, _“hang on a minute,”_ savagely before the doors bang open behind him again. He rolls his neck as he listens to the king’s footsteps approaching him from behind. A rough hand lands on his shoulder and jolts him to a halt. Merlin turns his head slightly to look at it.

“Not yet.” His voice whispers with quiet and intense anticipation.

Arthur pulls his shoulder back, forcing him around to face him. “Merlin, what _has_ gotten into you?” He demands. “I know you’ve never been overly respectful of station. I know we often banter more like friends than like king and servant, but that doesn’t change the fact that I am _still your king_ , and that means you have to show me at least an ounce of respect.” He’s genuinely angry. If his heated words weren’t evidence enough, then Merlin would be able to tell from the red flush in his cheeks. The set of his jaw. The tense line of his shoulders.

He glares back impassively. “Oh, I’m sorry, _Sire_. Have I offended your honour?” He sneers, eyes betraying the disgust he feels for the man in front of him. Arthur physically recoils at the look in Merlin’s eyes. He’s never seen such hatred burning in those blue irises, and especially not directed specifically at him.

“Honour has nothing to do with it, Merlin.” Arthur snaps. He is painfully aware of how public this conversation could potentially become. Merlin bristles as he reaches out to take Merlin’s wrist.

“Don’t touch me.” Merlin murmurs darkly as he snatches his hand back, out of immediate reach.

Arthur frowns. “What has gotten into you?” He repeats exasperatedly.

Merlin tilts his head as he studies the man before him for a second. “Perhaps I finally realized that I’m too good for _this_.” He gestures vaguely around the empty hall. Arthur stares back in confusion.

“Too good for _what_?” He asks, wanting clarification, but dreading the answer to come.

“For all of it.” Merlin replies heatedly. “For trailing after you like your pet dog. For being looked upon like a fool.” His eyes harden as he looks Arthur up and down. “ _For you_.” He hisses venomously.

Arthur staggers back, looking wounded for a moment before his cheeks colour further in anger. “Your insolence has gone too far this time, Merlin.” He says angrily, stepping toward Merlin again. Merlin takes a half step back, his magic bubbling to the surface, coiling up like a loaded spring, ready to lash out at any moment to defend himself.

“Wait.” His voice soothes. Merlin’s starting to get twitchy. Just as Arthur’s hand is about to wrap around his wrist like a vice, he hears the command of, “Now!”

Merlin closes his eyes, taking a deep breath and feeling his mind relax for a moment. A pleasant sense of calm washes over him, and he smiles. His whole body is buzzing in a way it never had before, and in a way, it’s intoxicating. He reaches out for the feeling, craving more, and welcoming it as he feels a surge of power. He inhales deeply again, and opens his eyes. Everything in his line of vision is more crystal clear than things have been since the sorcerer two weeks ago. Just as he had with Lancelot, he halts Arthur’s hand in midair.

“This is going to be so much fun.” His voice purrs. When Arthur’s face registers shock, he realizes that the voice hadn’t been in his head. Those words had been spoken with his own mouth. They were hanging in the air between them.

Arthur struggles futilely against the invisible hold on his wrist. “Merlin?” He whispers feebly as the man’s eyes darken to almost black.

Merlin leans closer, and whispers silkily into Arthur’s ear, “Never again will I be viewed as weak. From this day forward, you will bow to me. Mark my words, Arthur Pendragon.” His magic bursts out happily at Merlin’s call, slamming forcefully into the king’s chest. He goes flying backward, landing hard on his back on the stone. He coughs out a breath as he struggles to rise.

He staggers to his feet before saying, “Merlin, stop. This isn’t you.” Merlin actually barks out a laugh as he slowly advances toward the king.

“You don’t know the first thing about me.” He growls before inclining his head and sending Arthur hurtling backwards again. Merlin watches as Arthur crashes through his chamber doors in almost slow motion. He smiles to himself when he waits a beat and the king doesn’t move. He isn’t dead. The power coursing through every nerve in his body can sense the king’s strong heartbeat, but at least now he knows just how wrong he has always been about Merlin.

Turning his back, he starts to stroll down the hall. He isn’t stupid. Guards no doubt heard the commotion, and are already on their way here to investigate, but he isn’t scared. There is not a single person here who can lay a finger on him. Just as predicted, he hears the telltale clamour of approaching guards.

“Hey, you!” One calls. When Merlin looks back, the man is pointing at him. He seems to recognize Merlin, and quickly changes his tune. “Did you see who did this?” He asks. Merlin huffs out a laugh.

“Yes.” He replies simply.

“Which way did they go?” The guard demands as he and his partner advance. Merlin narrows his eyes as he holds out both arms and smirks.

“Nowhere. You’re looking at him.” The guards both look at him in disbelief for a moment before raising their swords. He watches them with amusement clear on his face as they hesitantly approach them.

“Don’t move.” The other one says as Merlin takes a step toward them. “You attacked the king, and are under arrest for treason.” He adds on in a shaky voice.

Merlin grins savagely, holding both arms out in front of him, wrists crossed one over the other. “By all means, try your best.” He taunts. The guards share an uneasy look before the first one who spoke sheathes his sword. They both approach Merlin side by side, one holding restraints and the other with his sword at the ready. Merlin waits until they’re almost upon him when he flicks his gaze to the guard’s sword and forces the man’s arms to swing the blade up into his partner’s throat. There’s a shout of surprise as the guard drops the blade, but it remains hovering in the air. His eyes widen in pain and surprise as the blade twists in the air and plunges into his chest.

Merlin watches the two men drop with a bored expression. He sighs softly, lips pouting slightly at his wish for more of a fight. With a slight shrug, he spins on his heel and makes his way to the closest stairwell. To his disappointment, he finds it empty. He takes the steps one at a time, leisurely making his way down. The longer he lingers, the more of a fight will come his way.

Sure enough, as he reaches the base of the stairs, four guards are rushing him, two from each side. His grin is toothy and sharp as he drops to his knees and slams his open palm down against the stone flooring. There is a sharp _crack_ which echoes through the space around them before the floor itself starts shifting and cracking. All four guards cry out in surprise and stumble to a halt. The floor continues breaking apart, spreading rapidly out toward the guards. They scramble backwards, but not quickly enough to escape the rapidly forming hole in the floor. Merlin focuses on all four men before his eyes flare gold, and they all get pulled toward the hole. They fall through, shouting in alarm, before their cries are cut off as they land. A flick of his wrist, and the stone is as good as new.

He continues on his way out of the castle, the sounds of armed men making their way toward him filling the usually serenely quiet halls. He doesn’t try to push his excitement aside.

“Hold!” He hears a familiar voice, and his feral grin widens. Turning, he sees Gwaine approaching. “Merlin, please don’t make me hurt you.”

Merlin laughs, he can’t help it. “You?” He asks with amusement. “You know, Gwaine, I had thought about killing you the day you joined me in the forest. I stopped myself because I thought we were friends. It turns out that you’re only loyal to one person, other than yourself, and that’s Arthur.” He muses. Gwaine’s jaw tightens as he readjusts his grip on his sword.

“You know that’s not true, Merlin. We’re friends. We always have been. You’re the closest thing I have to a brother.” Gwaine replies as he cautiously approaches. Merlin sniffs in disdain.

“I don’t believe you.” He growls, power prickling between his fingers. “Anyway, it no longer matters. I won’t make the same mistake again.” He raises his hand, his mind praising him and urging him on. He doesn’t register the sound of approaching foot falls until it’s too late.

A body crashes into his, and he goes tumbling to the floor. His head cracks painfully on the unforgiving stone, and his vision swims for a moment. Blearily, he looks up to see Percival panting as he asks Gwaine if he’s alright. He really should be paying attention to Merlin at his feet.

“You’re going to regret that.” Merlin snaps. The knight looks over at him in surprise, but it only lasts a moment before Merlin growls and sends him flying backwards. Gwaine rushes forward, and Merlin halts him with ease. His vision is slowly clouding over with red as he approaches the immobilized knight. A shout at the end of the hall stops him before he can snap the man’s neck.

“Merlin, stop! This isn’t you! You can fight this!” Merlin looks over his shoulder, leering at Arthur as he approaches him as he would a wounded and frightened animal.

“You can’t stop me.” Merlin says, before throwing his head back and disappearing in a whirlwind. Arthur lifts a hand to protect his face, only dropping it once the howling wind dies down. Gwaine drops to his knees with a gasp, staring at the place where Merlin had vanished. Arthur is too, and he’s furious.

“Are you all right?” Arthur asks, drawing his attention first to his men. Gwaine nods as he shakily gets to his feet.

“Yeah, I think so.” He replies, a slight tremor to his voice that Arthur doesn’t comment on. “Percival?” The knight calls out.

There’s an answering groan from down the hall, back the way Arthur has come, and he turns to face the sound. Percival is slowly getting to his feet, hand rubbing gingerly at his head. Arthur nearly yells in frustration. How the _hell_ had he let things get so bad, so quickly?

“What just happened?” Gwaine asks, drawing the king’s attention back to him.

Arthur grits his teeth. “Worst case scenario just happened.” He says angrily. He isn’t angry with his knights, he’s angry with himself. “Percival, go see Gaius to ensure you’re all right. Gwaine, help the others deal with the guards Merlin...” He chokes on the words, sentence dragging off unfinished.

Gwaine nods sagely. “Of course, Sire.” They both rush off, leaving Arthur alone. He has the urge to punch the wall, but refrains. However, he _does_ need to have a word with Gaius about Merlin apparently having magic.


	6. Chapter 6

Before he could go confront Gaius about his recent revelation concerning Merlin, Arthur knew that he had to get his emotions under control. He felt angry, betrayed, hurt. He thought he had known Merlin. He had felt closer to Merlin than he had to anyone else, and to know that apparently the same wasn’t true for his servant cut him deeper than he had anticipated. Over the past couple of months, they had seemed to be growing closer. He had slowly started trusting Merlin enough to let down his walls and welcome the clumsy idiot into his heart. Now, it felt like his heart had been ripped out still beating.

He stops and takes a deep breath. This line of thought wasn’t helping. If anything, it was making it all so much worse. He needed to be more clear headed to speak to the physician, not even more riled up. He closes his eyes, and promptly chokes on air when Merlin’s eyes are waiting for him. He clearly sees them, glowing gold and filled with such a burning loathing, that even still, he finds himself flinching away. He tugs on his hair, and growls in frustration. This wasn’t working. He needed to talk to Gaius, and _now_. He would just have to try and keep himself under control.

Arthur stalks through the castle, brimming with tension. Everywhere he looks, he sees servants and maids milling about, scared expressions on their faces. He realizes that they’re all scared of Merlin. That thought plunges a whole new knife into his chest. Despite everything that had transpired, despite finding out that Merlin had been using magic behind his back for years, his heart still told him that Merlin was a good person. He didn’t deserve this fear.

He’s interrupted from his thoughts when he literally walks onto Gwen. “Oh, sorry, Guinevere.” He says, reaching out to steady her. She looks up with a stricken expression on her face.

“Arthur, is it true? What people are saying about Merlin?” She asks frantically. “I was talking with Gaius and apparently missed everything, but it can’t be true, can it?” She looks so desperate for it to all be a lie.

He’s somber when he replies, “I’m afraid it is true. I’m just on my way to speak to Gaius as well. There are a few things I need cleared up.” Despite his heart aching, he keeps a sharp edge to his voice. He is still furious, after all.

Gwen chokes on a sob, lifting a trembling hand up to her lips. “So that curse you told Lancelot, Gwaine, and I, it’s real?” She asks. She had so desperately wanted it all to amount to nothing. She hadn’t wanted to believe that Merlin’s change in attitude meant anything bad. Her eyes tear up further as Arthur nods.

“Yes, I’m afraid it is real. It has also become a very real problem, too. I had been hoping that Merlin could fight it off before the effects took hold, but it appears that it not the case.” He avoids Gwen’s eyes as he speaks the words. He knows what they sound like. That one way or another, Merlin will have to be stopped before he can do too much more damage. Whatever that entails.

Gwen inhales sharply, but doesn’t say anything. Arthur chances a quick look at her, and sees the few tears leaking from her eyes that she has let escape. He knows what she must be feeling. Merlin is a very dear and close friend to her. They had hit it off almost immediately upon meeting, and had been thick as thieves ever since. He understands her heartbreak at the moment, perhaps more acutely than the king of Camelot had any right to.

“Gwen.” He says softly, feeling the need to say something, _anything_ , to make this hurt less. Nothing comes to mind. She lets him off the hook by shaking her head and holding up her hand.

“No, it’s okay. You don’t need to explain. You have a duty first to protect your kingdom.” She swallows hard and nods resolutely. “Let’s go see Gaius.”

Arthur falters as Gwen turns to accompany him back the way she had come. He had intended to have this conversation in private. He couldn’t explain it, he just had this feeling of needing to protect Merlin. It’s not like his magic was exactly secret anymore, and there was always the possibility that perhaps Guinevere already knew about it. The potential fact that Merlin had trusted Gwen more than himself squeezed Arthur’s chest painfully. He recognized the feeling, and scolded himself. He had no right to be jealous of Gwen right now. There were infinitely more important things on hand at the moment.

Instead, he gently touches her elbow, stopping her. “This conversation is not going to be an easy one.” He warns her. “There are several things I need to ask Gaius about, and the potential is there for things to get... heated.”

Gwen narrows her eyes slightly. “Merlin is my friend. If you think, for one minute, that I will not do as much as I can to help him, then you are more stupid than you look.” She states plainly. Arthur’s eyebrows rise in surprise. This woman definitely had a way about her. He couldn’t even chastise her for her comment on his intelligence.

“All right.” He acquiesces. If Gwen wants to be witness to what is about to unfold, then apparently there is very little that can be done about it. She nods, as if she had just read his mind, then turns to continue leading them back to Gaius. Arthur’s mind is still reeling with the events of the day as they move through the castle. Much sooner than he is prepared for, they’re both pausing outside the physician’s door.

Gaius looks up as Gwen pushes the door open. His eyes settle on Arthur as he follows the woman inside. Arthur notes that Gaius does not look at all surprised to see him. He does look calm and as unbothered as he could, given the circumstances. The king has to give the man credit for looking so stoic in the face of a very potential hurricane.

“You’re not surprised to see me.” Arthur comments as he closes the door behind him. There is a moments pause before Gaius replies.

“No, Sire. I was expecting to have a visit after what happened with Merlin today.” Arthur nods at his words. So, despite Gwen missing it, Gaius already knew.

Arthur settles a hard gaze on the older man. “So, you are aware that Merlin attacked, and killed, six of my men today?” He asks. He knows that this is going to be a very unpleasant conversation, no matter how he goes about it. He knows that stalling will not help, or prevent, the inevitable. However, his stuttering and bleeding heart won’t let him just dive head first into Merlin’s betrayal. It can’t.

Gaius’s face falls miserably. “Yes, I am aware of that, Sire. I wish it wasn’t true.” Arthur’s heart lurches at the statement. He, too, understands that sentiment.

“So.” He says slowly, taking halted steps further into the room. “You are also aware of other relevant and pertinent facts about Merlin.” He states. At this point, it’s not even a question. There is no way that Merlin could have been living with Gaius, and the man not know about his magic. In fact, Arthur has the sneaking suspicion that the physician has probably been helping Merlin harness and control his power. It remains to be seen if that is a good thing or not.

Having picked up and understood the king’s unspoken statement, Gaius nods. “Yes, Arthur, I was aware of Merlin’s gifts.” Despite having already guessed this, actually hearing it out loud leaves a bad and sour taste in Arthur’s mouth.

“I’m assuming you have a very good reason for not informing me of this back when this whole mess started two weeks ago?” He asks. He can feel his anger building again, and is trying desperately to keep it maintained. Once again, Gaius takes a moment to think and look him over.

“I had been hoping that Merlin’s magic would be strong enough to protect him from the curse’s effects.” He says.

“So it really is true?” Gwen pipes up. “Merlin does have magic? I know that, that is what everyone has been saying, but...” Her sentence drags off, unfinished. Arthur feels a shade better at knowing that Gwen had been in the dark concerning Merlin as well.

“Yes, Guinevere, Merlin has magic.” Gaius tells her kindly. “He has since arriving in Camelot all those years ago.” Hearing the calmness in which the physician speaks about the years of lies is what pulls the lid off his boiling rage.

“How could you, in good conscience, keep this from me?” He yells. “I had a right to know! Not just about the curse, but about what my servant got up to behind my back!” He adds on furiously. Gwen is staring at him with wide eyes, but Gaius looks, for the most part, unaffected by his words or his anger. This just infuriates him more.

“It was not my secret to tell.” The physician replies calmly, hoping that if he stayed cool and quiet, that the king would settle down. The opposite seems to happen.

“I don’t give a damn!” Arthur shouts. “It may have been Merlin lying to me, but I know you had a hand in him making that decision.” He accuses, pointing his finger irately at the man.

Gaius sighs heavily. “Yes, that is true. I did tell Merlin to keep his talents hidden from you. With your father on the throne, can you really blame me? That boy is the closest thing I have to a son, and I wanted to protect him.”

Arthur grits his teeth, clenching his hands into fists. “I don’t give a damn about my father!” The king snarls in frustration. “This isn’t about him. _Someone_ should have told me the truth, instead of keeping me in the dark.”

Arthur is expecting an answer from Gaius, so he’s surprised when Gwen jumps to her feet and fiercely says, “And if you had known, what would you have done?” Arthur blinks and takes a half step back. “If Merlin had told you, would he _really_ have been safe from Uther? The man was a tyrant, and he didn’t care if people were innocent or not. He didn’t care if people used magic for good or for evil. He executed them all the same!”

There are angry tears on her cheeks, and Arthur is reminded of her father. Uther has ordered his execution all those years ago. Arthur had nearly forgotten, but obviously Gwen hadn’t. Still, the fact that both of them thought that Arthur would have handed Merlin over to his father stings.

“I don’t know what I would have done.” He replies heatedly. “I certainly wouldn’t have let him get murdered. I thought you knew me better than that.” His voice chokes on the words, and he angrily blinks away the tears that spring up at their lack of faith in him. Merlin was the most important person to him, and to think that they had all assumed that he would turn a blind eye and let him die was more than he could truly bear.

Gaius takes a step toward him. “Arthur, you must see that we had no way of knowing that.” He says placatingly. “I’ve known you for your entire life, and although you’ve had some doubts over the years, you have always seemed to share your father’s view on magic. At least slightly. You may not have ordered his immediate execution, but how was Merlin to know that you wouldn’t have sent him away?”

Arthur glares at him. “I was never really given the chance to make a decision, was I?” He bites out. “Instead of giving me the benefit of the doubt, you decided to withhold information from me. I am the first to admit that I don’t need to know everything, but this was something I _should_ have been trusted with.”

Gaius studies him sombrely. “Perhaps.”

Arthur stares at him incredulously, anger forgotten for the moment. In light of all that had happened, he still thought that they had made the right decision. Now that his anger was burning out, the hurt and feeling of betrayal were rushing in. This was almost worse than the blinding rage from before. Now, his heart was clenching and twisting in his chest. The knowledge that all this time Merlin had been afraid of _him_... Well, what was he supposed to do with that?

“Arthur, you have to see this from his point of view.” Gwen urges softly, reaching out to touch his arm. He flinches away.

“What?” He cries. “That I’m a monster to be afraid of? That I’m someone to hold at arms length, never to be fully trusted, or ever really let in?” His voice is growing more choked the longer he talks. He looks away and swallows thickly. This was never supposed to happen.

Gwen’s soothing voice is hovering behind him when she speaks. “Of course not. Arthur, you are Merlin’s closest friend. He trusts you, and cares about you, more than anyone else. Can you really blame him for keeping his magic a secret after watching his kind being hunted down and slaughtered? I’m sure he wanted to tell you, he just never knew how. The thought of losing you forever was probably too big a risk for him.”

Turning back to face the other two, Arthur says savagely, “He would have been better off just telling me. Finding out this way just feels more like a betrayal. How am I supposed to ever trust him again?”

Gwen moves to rush forward a couple steps, but stops as Arthur pulls himself up to his full height. “This is Merlin we’re talking about.” She says plainly. “Merlin, who would never intentionally hurt his friends. He has spent years in the shadows, protecting us from harm. I know it feels like betrayal now, but he has never used his magic for bad.” Gwen seems so sure of her words, but how could she be certain? She didn’t even know about Merlin’s magic until now, either.

“It is true, Sire.” Gaius says from his spot beside her. Great, they were still ganging up on him. “He has only ever used his magic for you. You mean a great deal to him, Arthur. Probably more than he has ever admitted to himself.”

Arthur looks away, that sting of tears back behind his eyes. His heart has officially been clenched in a vice, and he’s finding it decidedly difficult to breathe. His eyes scan the room, landing on the open door to the small room in the back. It feels like a punch to the gut to remember that it’s empty. That Merlin is currently in the wind, and under the control of a powerful, dark curse.

“What do we do?” He quietly asks, not directing his question to anyone in particular, just the room at large. “How do we get him back?” A bitter silence follows his words, and he’s terrified that his worst fear is the only answer. They can’t.

“I’m not sure.” Gaius finally admits out loud. “I can’t seem to find any information on this curse in any of my books, and therefore have no idea how to break it.” After a moments pause, he adds, “Or if it even can be broken.”

Arthur closes his eyes and takes a trembling breath. “Keep looking.” He orders faintly. He doesn’t look at either Gaius or Gwen as he turns to leave. Gwen’s voice stops him at the door.

“What are you going to do?” She asks. Arthur looks back at her, but drops his eyes to look at her feet instead of her face.

“I need to make a plan on what to do when Merlin comes back. If Gaius cannot find a way to break the curse, then the city must be protected. I value Merlin’s life more than my own, but I have to keep my people safe.” He’s shaking as he slips through the door.

~~~

Merlin is staring up at the sky, filled with such a sense of serenity, that he can’t help but smile. He has never felt so... _free_. He can see Camelot rising up through the trees in the distance, but he doesn’t feel rushed. Let them try to prepare. Let them make useless plans to stop him. He knows deep down that Arthur could never bring himself to ever do him any harm. They had grown quite close over the years, and while he had thought that he had gained a certain sense of fondness for the king, he did know that Arthur was quite fond of him. Why else would he have kept him around for so long? If it came down to it, Merlin knew that Arthur would let him win.

He can still feel the fresh surge of power pulsing through him with every beat of his heart. It tasted sweet on his tongue with every breath he took. When he wiggled his fingers, he felt the air around him _snap_ and _pop_ with the raw energy he created. He was unstoppable, and Camelot was soon going to find that out.

“Be still, Merlin.” His voice cautioned. “There is time enough for thoughts of revenge on Arthur Pendragon. He will pay for the crimes he has committed in due time. For now, we must rest.”

Merlin closes his eyes and leans back against the tree behind him. He had his ears tuned into the sounds of the forest around him, ready to alert him to any possible intrusion or attack. It was possible, though improbable, that Arthur had sent out patrols to find him. He very much doubted that Arthur would put his men in unnecessary danger like that. Now that he knew the bare minimum of what Merlin was capable of, he was bound to be cautious.

“We’ll attack tonight. Raze the great city of Camelot to the ground, and all those who remain loyal to it. We will have our victory soon.” Merlin smiles at the thought. There was a very fleeting argument that what he was about to do was wrong, but the thought was quickly and efficiently destroyed. He had come this far, There was no going back now.

A _snap_ behind him makes him peer around the tree. A lone buck was paused in the forest, eyes locked on Merlin’s still form. Merlin watches its nose twitch as it scents the air. He tilts his head, curious as to what the sound of it’s neck breaking would really sound like, but doesn’t entertain the thought. This deer has done nothing to him, and therefore does not deserve his wrath. The buck seems to decide that Merlin’s company is not ideal, as it turns and walks away further into the trees. Merlin watches it go until it’s no longer in sight.

He turns back around, eyes once again landing on the seemingly innocent castle walls. Such unthinkable acts had been carried out inside that fortress. So much blood had been spilled within those stone walls, all in the name of Uther Pendragon. His son may not have the same heinous crimes written with his name, but his ledger was far from clean. Turning a blind eye to the slaughter of innocent people made Arthur Pendragon just as guilty as his father had been before him. How many people had he rounded up under his father’s orders? How many people had he sealed the fates of by turning them over to a monster?

His magic coils in his body, and a harsh wind rustles the trees around him. He has to close his eyes and inhale deeply, listening to the soothing voice in his head as he wrangles it back under control. Arthur would pay for what the Pendragon’s had done.

“Soon.” The voice assures him. “For now, let them worry. Let them think they can prepare for the storm ahead. Give them a chance to build up a false sense of hope. It’ll make our victory that much sweeter, I promise.”

He once again settles back with his eyes closed, lips curled in a tiny smile. He could wait until tonight. He could wait until the sky was streaked with ribbons of pink and gold before he painted the walls of Camelot with red. It seemed fitting in a way, to bathe the city in the colour that people had come to view as their protectors. Never again would a citizen of Camelot look upon a cloak of red and see hope.

The suns shifts in the sky, and still he doesn’t rise. The shadows shrink to almost nothing, then start to grow again. He sits and watches the world around him come to life. Birds sing in the trees around him. Insects buzz around his head before moving on. Wildlife comes and goes as the hours pass by. All the while, his mind slumbers. The power in his body lays dormant, biding it’s time, resting before being let loose like a tornado, or a hurricane.

He drifts off once or twice, twitching awake every time blue eyes and golden hair try to invade his head. He feels a rush of irritation every time he has to push the thoughts aside. A spike of annoyance pings in his heart every time the king’s face makes his stomach clench. Despite his lack of rest, however, he feels more alive than he has in a very long time. He feels more than ready to become what he was made to be. To do what he was destined to do.

As the shadows stretch even longer in front of him, he uncurls and rises to his feet. His fingertips are tingling with a nervous excitement. This is it. The time has come. His eyes find the city easily. There are no doubt archers at the ready along the walls. The knights are probably in full armour, and standing up inside the citadel. The king himself will be outside with his men, ready and willing to give his life up to protect his kingdom.

“What do you say, Merlin? Should we give him what he so clearly wants?” Merlin’s lips pull back in a wolfish grin.

“Yes.” He breathes in agreement.


	7. Chapter 7

Upon exiting Gaius’s chambers, Arthur snags the first serving boy who happens to pass him, and tells him to round up his usual five most trusted knights for council. The boy, after taking one look at Arthur’s ferocious face, scampers off to do the king’s bidding in as timely a fashion as possible. Arthur then makes his way to his chambers to meet his knights. This, too, was going to be an unpleasant conversation, the biggest wild card being Gwaine. The knight was known to speak his mind, even to the king.

His chambers are empty when he arrives, the doors still splintered on the ground. He avoids looking at them as he steps around the debris, not wanting the reminder of Merlin looking at him with disgust and hatred. He busies himself with pulling out a map of the city and laying it down flat on the table. His breakfast was discarded on his bed, long forgotten. As he waits for his men, he studies the map intently.

The knights enter one by one, each pausing to look at the shattered door questioningly, but none of them ask any questions. For that, Arthur is grateful. As they step fully into the room, they offer him grim looks, then take their places around the table. None of them speak a word, merely gather and split their attention between their king and the map the king is still intently staring at. Gwaine is the last one to join them.

“Gentlemen,” Arthur finally greets, “thank you for coming. You are here because you are my most trusted, and most relied upon knights. I know that you five, out of all of them, will have my back no matter the odds.” He looks at each one in turn, making eye contact as they all nod in agreement.

“As knights,” he continues solemnly, “you have sworn an oath to protect Camelot and its people, no matter what the threat. It is for this reason that I have called you all here. Camelot is in danger, and we must figure out a way to save as many people as we can, in a short amount of time.”

As suspected, it’s Gwaine who speaks up first. “I’m assuming this is about Merlin?” Arthur can’t tell what he’s thinking from the tone of his voice.

“Yes, this is about Merlin.” He replies. If he’s going to meet resistance over this, then he’d rather it be now.

“Since when does our sworn oath include attacking our friends?” Gwaine asks. Arthur looks the knight directly in the eyes. He needs him to believe his next words.

“Gwaine, I do not like this any more than you do.” He says softly, but without any room for question. Still, Gwaine looks ready for a fight.

“This is not Merlin’s fault. You are supposed to protect all your people. Shouldn’t that include him, too?” He asks. Arthur feels a lance of pain in his heart. Of course it does. Arthur would gladly lay down, or trade, his life for Merlin’s, but he can’t admit to that right now. Camelot needs a king who is strong and decisive in matters of attack. He must be that, not only for his people, but for his knights. He has to be the image to follow.

Arthur takes a deep breath. “I know you don’t want to accept it, but when Merlin attacked me, the guards, even you knights, he declared himself an enemy of Camelot. As much as it may pain you, he is now someone we need to defend the city against. If Camelot falls, so does the rest of the kingdom.”

Gwaine glares at him. “How can you stand there and call yourself his friend when you are so willing to just cast him aside? Who gave you the right to decide who is worth trying to save?”

“I am the king, Gwaine. While you may not agree, it is ultimately my decision.” Arthur says, tone warning. However, Gwaine still doesn’t back down.

“This is Merlin we’re talking about.” He argues. Arthur slams his hand down on the table, the cracks running even deeper into his heart.

“And you think I don’t know that?” He shouts. “You think I want to be putting together a plan to protect my kingdom against one of my closest friends? I care about Merlin, more than any of you realize. This is not an easy decision, but it is the one that must be made, whether we like it or not.” He pauses to take a deep breath. “Now, if you’re not with me, then I suggest you leave”

Gwaine glares at him as Arthur glares right back. The other four men in the room shift uneasily as they watch king and fellow knight locked in a silent battle. Eventually, Gwaine runs a hand up into his hair, and sighs heavily. He shifts his glare off to the side, backing down. He remains where he is, however.

“I know this isn’t easy.” Arthur says, with a quiet sort of intensity. “I know that Merlin has been a good friend to all of us, but we have to accept the fact that right now, Merlin isn’t Merlin. Not really. Gaius is already looking into ways that we can get _our_ Merlin back, but in the meantime, we must protect the city.” He once again looks at each man in turn, waiting for their nod of agreement. Gwaine is the last to meet his eyes. After a heated moment, he nods his head.

“What is the plan, my Lord?” Leon asks once all the knights are on board. Arthur looks down at the map, the five knights doing the same.

“Most importantly, we must evacuate the city. Merlin may be intent on destruction, but if we get him back then he’ll never forgive himself over the lives that were taken in the process.” He glances up and is met with more nods. “First order of business, we need to get as many people out as we can.” He gestures to the Lower Town. “Most of the civilians live in these areas. Leon, I want you to assemble the castle guards. Sort them into small groups and have them round up everyone not trained to fight. They will need to be escorted out of the city and into the forest.”

Lancelot looks up, catching his eye. “Won’t leading them into the forest just lead them straight to Merlin?” He asks. Arthur chews on his lip thoughtfully and shakes his head.

“Yes and no.” He says gravely. “When that sorcerer cast the curse, he intended for me to destroy Camelot. I can only assume that Merlin is now intent on doing the same thing. However, the complication is Merlin’s own magic. It is impossible to say how the curse reacted when met with something like itself. I have a feeling that it’s not just Camelot that Merlin wants to destroy, it’s also me. If I stay as far away from the people as possible, they should hopefully be safe.”

“Once they are out of the city, what should we do?” Leon asks.

Arthur nods as he moves along. “They will need to make camp. Leave as many men as you believe can protect them behind to help, then have everyone else come back. We ultimately don’t stand a chance in protecting the city completely, he’s too strong for that, but we can at least make the way more difficult for him.”

“The way he disappeared,” Percival pipes up, “we have no idea where he will come from.”

Arthur points at him. “Correct. I want a platoon of men stationed at each entrance to the city, that way we can at least be alerted wherever he ends up. He may very possibly move around, try to confuse us, so those men will not leave their stations. I also wants archers staggered at intervals around the entire perimeter wall. Arrows won’t stop him, but they might slow him down, and having eyes high up will also give us advance warning as to which side of the city he’s coming from.”

Elyan is studying the map intently when he asks, “What about everyone else? If we put a set number of men at each entrance to the city, where do the rest go?”

Arthur points at roughly the centre. “I want the majority positioned here. That gives them the best access to move wherever they are needed most. We will also want a group of men inside the citadel itself. This is where I want you five. As I said before, I trust you the most, and you are the ones I need by my side when Merlin strikes.”

Gwaine looks at him with a sad kind of curiosity. “You really believe Merlin will come specifically for you?” He asks. When Arthur meets his eyes, he is equally as somber.

“I believe that the curse will make him try to get justice for the wrongs my father committed.” He replies stoically. He receives nods in return. “There is no telling how hard Merlin will strike, but I think it is safe to assume that he is aiming to kill.”

It’s Gwaine, again, who interrupts with, “Are we to aim to kill as well?” Arthur can tell that he is still unhappy with the situation. Arthur understands his feelings. He is less than enthused with the idea as well. All five knights are watching him, waiting for his decision. He takes a couple minutes to think over said decision.

Finally, he says, “I want it made clear to everyone that they are to aim to incapacitate unless otherwise ordered by either me, or one of you.” Once again, he gets nods in return.

“How long can we really hope to hold an evil sorcerer off when we have no real intent to do any lasting damage?” Percival asks.

Arthur winces. He had been thinking the same thing. How many men would die at Merlin’s unintentional, or perhaps unwitting, hand before Arthur gave up hope and gave the order to take the man down? Even now, despite his anger at being lied to, the thought of Merlin dying was enough to almost bring him to his knees. Depending on how the impending battle went, he many never get the chance to sort things out with the man. He’s torn from his thoughts by someone loudly clearing their throat. He looks up to see Gaius and Gwen hovering in the doorway.

“Gaius, please tell me you bring good news.” Arthur says defeatedly.

Gaius steps further into the room, so as to address everyone present. “The only way I can see of breaking the curse is to reach Merlin himself.” He says. Arthur shares a confused look with his men.

“Meaning?” Lancelot asks.

“Meaning, that this curse has taken over control of Merlin’s mind, but the real Merlin is still in there somewhere. If we can get past the darkness in his mind and reach _him_ , he might have a chance at gaining back control.” Gaius explains further.

Arthur asks doubtfully, “And how are we supposed to do that?”

Gaius settles him with an unflinching look. “It won’t be easy. Whoever tries must have a deep emotional and personal connection with Merlin, and they’re going to have to get close enough to Merlin’s body for Merlin to hear them from wherever the curse has him locked away. That creates obvious dangers. The curse is going to fight back. It won’t want to give up control, and it likely to react quite severely to anyone trying to reach past it.”

An uneasy feeling settles over the group. “If it is likely to react severely, isn’t there a chance it could turn on Merlin himself if he tries to take back control over his mind?” Lancelot asks.

Gaius looks thoughtful for a moment. “I suppose so, but in order to continue being in existence, the curse needs the body it is in. It is very unlikely it would kill Merlin itself. That’s not to say that it won’t put him through enough physical pain to force him back under.” The words do little to soothe the queasy rolling of Arthur’s gut. Arthur shares a look with each of his knights, lingering on Lancelot and Gwaine, as they are the two closest to him, before swinging his gaze over to Gwen. She’s crying silent tears.

“And what happens if we can’t get through to him?” He forces himself to ask quietly. He already knows the answer, and it’s likely everyone else in the room does as well. However, he needs to hear someone else other than him say it. He needs to know that it’s not just his decision.

Gaius meets his eyes directly as he says, “Then he will need to be stopped. Permanently.” Arthur still finds himself flinching at the words. The tenuous little strings his heart had been using to stitch itself back together snap easily, letting the shattered pieces fall to ruin beneath his ribcage. Never in all his life had he ever felt so utterly broken, and he hadn’t even done anything yet.

“I’ll do it.” He hears himself say. It’s the most obvious answer to him. He would never let himself live with the choice of putting one of his men in such terrible danger.

“Are you sure that’s wise?” Leon asks hesitantly. Arthur looks at him blankly. “It’s just, you are the king, Sire.” He adds on hastily.

His eyes shift to Lancelot as the man says, “I think what Leon means is perhaps it would be better to let someone more disposable put themselves into such danger.” Arthur frowns at his words. He has never once considered any of his knights to be disposable, no matter what his father said or thought.

“None of you are disposable.” He says firmly, wanting to nip those thoughts in the bud. “I value each and every one of you, and all of those out there willing to fight in my name. What kind of king would I be if I allowed any of you to take this risk in my place?”

Gwaine meets his eyes. “An alive one. Come on, Princess, Camelot needs you. Without their king, the kingdom falls apart. You’re too valuable to risk losing like this.” Arthur doesn’t like where this is going, and how it seems to be slipping out of his control. He looks around at all the faces in the room and sees the same determined look on each one. They were all in agreement against him.

“No.” He says authoritatively, a definite edge of finality also lacing his tone. “If Merlin has to be... It should be me. I’ll do it.” He makes sure to leave no room for discussion in how he delivers the words. After a moment of tense hesitation, everyone else reluctantly nods. “Good. Now, let’s get Camelot ready for attack.”

At his words, everyone splits off to complete their assigned tasks. Leon is the first out of his chambers, with Elyan and Percival behind him. Lancelot hangs back for a moment to wish Arthur good luck, before he, too, disappears. Gwaine pauses to firmly grip the king’s shoulder. They share a look, one that probably speaks more words than either one could ever articulate.

“Bring Merlin home.” Is all the knight says before leaving as well. When Arthur meets the physician’s eyes, he looks even more serious than usual.

“Arthur, I must warn you, the curse will have Merlin buried deep inside his own mind. Reaching him will not be easy. You will have to rely on every last bit of your connection with him. Any anger or betrayal you feel towards him will have to be left aside if you wish to have any hope of succeeding.” The older man cautions. Arthur nods in understanding.

“Thank you, Gaius. I hope you can trust in my promise to do everything in my power to bring Merlin back.” He replies with an emotionally tinged voice. To his surprise, Gaius gives him a small, but reassuring smile.

“Arthur,” he says, “I trust no one else to do the job better. If anyone can truly reach Merlin, it’s you. However, if our attempts fail, I know that he would rather it he you who ends it. Despite what you might think at the moment, he is not afraid of you, he just never wanted to put you in the position to have to choose between him or Camelot.” Arthur has to blink away tears as he fully digests Gaius’s words.

“Thank you.” He repeats quietly. Gaius nods, keeping his head bowed slightly in respect for a moment before turning and following the knights out of the room. That only left Guinevere still staring at him with soulful eyes.

“He’s right, you know.” She says softly. “You are the only one who can reach him, but you’re also the only one who can help him if he’s unreachable. You know that Merlin would never want to live as a monster.” Arthur bites his lip and looks away. He knows that she’s right. Merlin would never want to stay like this forever. It didn’t make the actions any less painful.

When he looks back, he’s composed himself. “You should leave with the guards escorting the other citizens out of the city. It’s not safe for you here.” He knows it’s a lost cause simply from the defiant look on her face. “At the very least, stay with Gaius as far from the battle as possible. He will undoubtedly need the help with the wounded.”

Gwen approaches him and takes both his hands in her much smaller ones. She doesn’t say anything, just looks up into his face as she squeezes his hands reassuringly. The firm pressure helps to ground him a little bit. She studies his face, looking for all the world like she wants to say a thousand different things, but just doesn’t know how. With one last gentle squeeze, she lets go. She also turns to leave, but pauses in the bare doorway to look at him over her shoulder.

“You’re lucky to have each other.” She says. “Make sure you remember that when you face him. Dig deep and don’t hold anything back.” Arthur’s cheeks flush red as he watches her walk away. His own feelings for Merlin were still often times a mystery to him. He knew how he felt, of course, but sometimes he just couldn’t wrap his head around them. They were much like Merlin himself. An enigma. He only hopes it can all be as simple as Gwen makes it sound.

~~~

The preparations for battle take almost all day. Many of the citizens had been reluctant to leave their homes and possessions behind, and so they had to be given time to pack all that they could carry with them. As the guards had their hands full escorting them all out of the city, the serving staff in the castle were busy sharpening blades and readying weapons and armour. The entire city was essentially a bustle of activity, but a very tense atmosphere hung over everything like a black cloud. They were all well aware of the storm brewing on the horizon, but no one spoke about it.

Arthur pitched in where he could, helping console the more troubled citizens, and peeking in to oversee how the men were preparing. There was a pit building in his chest, and he was worried that if he stood still too long, that it would just grow until it consumed him. As much as he may not like it, Gwen stuck around in the city with Gaius. When she wasn’t helping him prepare for the onslaught of wounded men, she was with Arthur, trying to soothe his troubled mind. He appreciated the effort, but it wasn’t really working. There was a very good chance that, despite his best efforts, either him or Merlin would not be alive to see the morning sun rise. How was he supposed to relax with that thought weighing on his mind?

The light was fading from the sky much too quickly. The setting sun was painting the sky with beautiful, warm, pastel colours. Under better circumstances, Arthur would have found it beautiful. It was the kind of night that he normally would’ve wanted to drag his servant outside to watch the colours change as the sun sunk lower. What was going to happen instead was bound to be much bloodier. If Arthur was successful, and was able to reach Merlin through the dark haze swirling around in his head, would Merlin ever be able to live with himself? Would he ever truly forgive himself for what happens tonight?

The archers were at the ready along the entire perimeter of the walls. Twenty men each were waiting at every entrance to the city. The rest were anxiously waiting just outside the main citadel walls, with a couple dozen spilling back into the courtyard. Arthur was there with his five trusted knights, heart pounding in his chest at what was to come. He senses it first, the hair on the back of his neck standing on edge. One by one, his knights feel it, until soon all the men are looking around warily.

Black clouds suddenly start gathering on the horizon, loud claps of thunder rolling through the air toward them. Arthur hears the shout of one of the archers. Merlin’s coming. He’s been spotted. This is all only seconds away from happening. He takes a moment to try and settle his mind, as he always does before battle. He shares a quick look with his men on either side, and nods gravely. _This is it._

Arthur can almost sense Merlin approaching, a fire igniting under his skin. _‘Please don’t let this night be either of our last.’_ Arthur begs in his head as his body tightens and readies itself subconsciously for battle. He readjusts his grip on his sword, eyes flicking around the perimeter walls that he can see, waiting to see which men shoot first. Another _boom_ of thunder sounds overhead, and just like that, the battle for Camelot begins.


	8. Chapter 8

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Fair warning: this is where the “blood and violence” tag really comes into play!

Merlin had been through his fair share of battles. He had been witness to war. He had faced foes both large and small, and both with Arthur by his side and without him. In all these experiences, he doesn’t think he’s ever faced anything quite like this. Camelot was a fortress. A stronghold. Near impregnable. Or so all of Camelot’s sworn enemies believed. Merlin knew differently. Despite the fortifications that the city held, nothing was impervious to magic. Certainly not bricks of stone, or men who pledged allegiance to a false king.

The black clouds brewing around him in the sky had not been a conscious decision, though he admitted that they were a nice touch. The darkness they cast across the land they covered mirrored Merlin’s desire to abolish any hope that Arthur may have been able to instil in his men. Blocking out the sky, the light, was the perfect foreshadow for what was to come.

As he moves through the forest, he lets his fingers run over the rough bark of the trees. He lets dangling leaves brush over his skin. The power within him is starting to awaken again, and he can feel the life in the trees get drawn to it. The energy from the very earth around him is reaching out to him, licking submissively at his feet and ankles. The very essence of everything recognizes him, and knows that he cannot, and will not, lose. Life itself seems to be celebrating Camelot’s final hours.

He breaks through the trees, the high walls of the city looming up above him, and he hears a shout. Just as he had predicted, Arthur had stationed archers along the walls. The king must have known that such insignificant things as arrows would not stop him. They would hardly slow him down, in fact. Therefore, the king must have wanted an advance warning to his presence. Merlin admitted that it was a smart decision, but it would make little difference in the end. The city, and the king along with it, would still burn by the end of the night. His lips pull back in a sneer as more shouts follow.

Merlin watches with growing boredom as the archers within range of his position ready their bows. There is a moments pause as they all pull their bowstrings back in unison before launching their first attack. He lifts an unhurried hand up, his magic practically yawning as all the arrows stop in midair. He looks them all over contemplatively before flicking his wrist and letting them all fall uselessly to the ground. When he looks back up, the archers are once again loading and readying their weapons. He sighs. These actions will repeat tirelessly until he puts a stop to them.

As the next round of arrows get shot in his direction, he effortlessly stops them, spins them in the air, and shoots them back. There’s a cry of surprise as all the men duck under cover. Merlin grins as two of them don’t end up so lucky. The beast inside his chest purrs as he watches them fall lifelessly from the wall. More archers are hurrying toward his position, bows quickly being set to the ready. He grits his teeth in frustration. He doesn’t have time for this. His purpose here is to kill the king. Only then will Camelot, and the kingdom itself, fall.

Merlin starts moving closer to the city, out of the protection of the trees around him. He hears the next wave of arrows _zing_ through the air, and waves a hand to disperse them. They all connect pointlessly with the ground and the smaller trees growing closer to the city. Another round gets sent back at the shooters, more archers falling to the ground with cries of agony. Merlin’s grin only grows wider when he reaches the city, only to find the entrance guarded by more than a dozen of Camelot’s army. Merlin studies then silently as they restlessly look back.

“You’re king has sent you to die.” He says emotionlessly. “He has knowingly and willingly sacrificed your lives so he may keep his a little longer.” He doesn’t offer them an escape. They have chosen their side, their loyalty, and must therefore pay the price. If that price happens to be their lives, then so be it.

“For Camelot!” The man in front yells before they all charge him. He looks practically wild as he grins savagely, welcoming their attempts to stop him. The first man reaches him and swings at his head. Merlin ducks easily, reaching out a hand to slam into the man’s chest. His magic surges through his fingers and into the man’s bones, snapping his sternum and all his ribs as if they were small twigs. He spins to face the next attacker as the man collapses in cries of agony.

The next two men attack at the same time, both lunging forward to pierce his stomach and back at the same time. His eyes glow golden as he stops both blades inches away from his body. A smirk pulls at his lips as he looks from one man to the next. They both look reasonably terrified at what was to come. Stepping back, he waves his hands and forces both men toward each other, only smiling more broadly as their swords pierce each other and a spray of blood erupts outwards, catching his chin and throat. He can sense the fear growing in the remaining men as he looks back up at them.

Nevertheless, another group of men rush forwards. Over their charged yells, he can hear the sounds of more men approaching, coming to help the initial group put here to defend the city. No matter. Merlin can handle more men. As the new group of attackers descend upon him, he holds his hands out, stilling their movements. They struggle frantically in their invisible holds, trying to break free. Merlin twists his hands, lifting the men off their feet to dangle in the air. Another twist of the wrist has them spinning through the air before being flung harshly back against the very walls they were protecting. The sounds of bones crunching echo through the air. By now, the reinforcements have arrived. Merlin is actually disappointed to find that Arthur isn’t with them. Was the king hiding, like his coward of a father always had?

He lets out an angry yell, his magic bursting out and sending all the men before him tumbling back several feet. He glances up at the last second, the hairs on the back of his neck tingling, to stop a new onslaught of arrows. They had somehow found a way to aim at him without risking the Camelot men. He growls as he sends them back, more of them hitting their mark this time than the last. During this very brief distraction, the infantry men have gotten back to their feet and are starting to approach him in formation.

“You would so willingly lay down your lives for a liar? A murderer?” He yells at them. He gets no reply, but he isn’t surprised. He knows how loyal every person who calls Camelot home is. They all adore Arthur. He, himself, had been among them once. Now, he knows better. He can see the truth. The entire Pendragon lineage is corrupt and rotten to the core. It must be put to an end here and now before it’s taint can further spread across the land.

Another battle cry rings out from the army of men, and they all charge at once. Merlin bristles, glowering at them as they approach. The archers left have no choice but to halt their attacks, in fear of friendly fire. Merlin uses this to his advantage to rush the oncoming men. A sword swings past his ear before being roughly twisted and sent into the stomach of the man next to him. Another sword slashes at his thigh before being redirected into the throat of another man. More blood sprays out across Merlin’s clothes, the sticky wet seeping into the fabric. Merlin cares little as he grips another man by the throat and snaps his neck. He tosses the body aside, knocking a couple other soldiers off their feet. He ignores them as they struggle to push their fallen comrade off of them.

The black clouds roiling above them are making it too difficult for even Merlin to properly see. With a flash of gold, all the buildings lining the walkway burst up in flames. A few unlucky men stood too close gets singed by the heat. The sudden light allows Merlin to see even more infantry approaching. He frowns when he sees that the king is still absent from their ranks. With a yell of frustration, even more men get flung off their feet, clearing a path for Merlin to advance further into the city. The men clamber back to halt his movements as quickly as they can. A glare from Merlin’s golden black eyes have several dropping, every bone in their legs breaking. The men advancing directly behind them trip over their fellows, sprawling in the dirt.

His moment of distraction allows on solider to get up close enough behind him to cut into his left arm. Merlin cries out, more in surprise than pain, and spins around to lash out at his attacker. Merlin isn’t even entirely sure what his magic did, but the man is dead before he hits the ground. He turns back to face the majority of the Camelot soldiers, and presses on. If Arthur refuses to meet Merlin, then he will just have to go and meet the king, wherever he may be hiding. Several men on either side rush forward to hinder his progress, and he pushes them aside easily. He can feel the blood rolling down his arm, mixing with that of the dead soldiers around him, but ignores it. It is not of import at the moment.

Merlin takes note of all the men’s bravery, and their foolishness, as he continues to break through their ranks with relative ease. There are a few who pose a real challenge for Merlin, and he delights the most in watching the life leave their eyes. The stink of fear is thick in the air as their attempts to stop him all fail, and he’s thriving off of it. The raw energy their emotions, their _fear_ , is giving off is intoxicating for Merlin, and he can’t help but to take in lungfuls of it, gulping it in as one might a drink after a long and harrowing day.

Once their defeat is inevitably obvious, the battle to reach the main citadel is relatively easy. The men fall at his feet, lining the streets of Camelot with red, just as he had imagined. The fires on either side of him continue to burn, billowing thick smoke up to meet the heavy clouds above. He is winning, Camelot is falling, despite their best efforts to prevent it. The only thing keeping Merlin from a complete victory was Arthur’s heart still beating.

More men are waiting for him when he reaches the citadel. There’s a hint of desperation hanging over them, and Merlin knows that this is where the king is. These men are desperate to succeed, to protect their sovereign, as misguided as their intentions are. Merlin almost feels sorry for them. How lost they must be to want to protect such a person. He halts his movements, allows them to look over the carnage spread out before them.

“Stand aside and I will let you live.” He announces to them all. “Protect your king, and you will all die.” He watches as a ripple of fear courses throughout their ranks.

“We will not betray Camelot, and we will not hand our king over to you.” One brave soul shouts back in a trembling voice. Merlin looks over all the men, seeing the same foolish thoughts written over all their faces. He sighs. This much death had not been necessary. Deep down, he knows that this wasn’t what he had wanted. He had merely wanted the king’s heart in his palm.

“So be it.” He calls back, a hint of sadness to his voice. They all converge on him at once, and just like that, the bloody carnage continues. More blood falls to line the streets and the walls around them. Merlin futilely wipes at some that has smeared across his cheek. It’s doesn’t take long for him to decimate the army of men surrounding the citadel, and to step through into the main square. More men await him in the courtyard, and beyond them, he sees him. King Arthur, in all his cowardice, waiting at the stone steps up into the castle, his select knights flanking him. He looks sad, and grim, and furious all at once.

“So this is where you are hiding?” Merlin shouts at him. “You’re cowering in fear behind your men?” He adds in a taunting voice. He watches with satisfaction as Arthur moves to approach him, and both Leon and Percival beside him hold him back. Yes, let him watch the bloody destruction about to unfold. Let him always remember the death of his men. Let this be the last thing he ever sees. His voice sings praises in his ears.

“We’re almost there, Merlin!” It crows. “Just a little bit farther.” Just like before, it takes little time, and little effort, to break through the ranks of men. On the other side, he comes face to face with the knights left behind the protect Arthur, and the king himself.

“Merlin, mate, we know this isn’t you. It’s not too late to fix this.” Gwaine pleads as they all start circling him. Merlin meets his eyes disdainfully.

“There is nothing to fix.” He replies scornfully. “I’m not broken.” Gwaine looks pained and utterly hopeless. Good. They should all feel hopeless. Defeat and demise are inevitable.

Elyan is the first to attack. Years of watching Arthur train the knights has made them all predictable, so he easily catches the man’s wrist before he can land the blow. Without much effort, he snaps his wrist, then places him hand on his chest and shoves him forcefully backwards. He stumbles, face contorted with pain as he lands on the hard ground. Counting him as down and out of the fight, Merlin turns to face the others.

Leon and Percival approach together, Leon coming from in front as Percival darts in behind to grab him. Strong arms wrap around him as Leon advances, sword at the ready. Merlin settles for a second, letting them think they’re glimpsing victory before swinging his head back forcefully and connecting with Percival’s chin. The blow weakens the man’s grip, and Merlin easily breaks free, glaring at Leon as he lunges forward. Merlin parries the blow with his magic, knocking it aside so hard that the man nearly loses his grip on the weapon. Percival steps back into the battle, and Merlin effortlessly dodges. Focusing on Leon’s sword, he waits until the last second to sidestep and have the blade run into Percival’s right shoulder. He shouts in surprise as he drops to his knees, and Merlin uses the distraction to easily toss Leon aside.

Lancelot and Gwaine share a look before both slinking in quickly. Merlin’s magic prickles in warning. These two know him the best, aside from Arthur, so if any of the knights could potentially have success, it’d be these two. He watches their feet as they serpentine in, looking for any moment of weakness that he can use to his advantage. He gets it when Gwaine crosses one foot in front of the other to sidestep something on the ground. He crashes to the ground, head connecting audibly with the courtyard stone. He groans, but doesn’t rise again. Lancelot, behind him, is quickly dealt with, with a flick of his wrist.

Merlin meets Arthur’s eyes and grins. “This is going to be very sweet, Pendragon.” He says.

“Merlin,” Arthur says desperately, “you need to fight this. Please, take back control.” Merlin stares at him blankly for a moment before throwing his head back and laughing.

“Did you really think that would work?” He sneers, taking slow steps toward the king.

“I know the real you is in there somewhere, Merlin, and I know you can hear me.” Arthur tries again. His heart is pounding painfully as Merlin continues to cackle.

“I know what you’re trying to do.” Merlin says gleefully. “And it won’t work. This is me now.” He gestures to his blood splattered body. Arthur grits his teeth and shakes his head.

“No, I don’t believe that. The real Merlin would never do this. He is kind, and genuine. He cares about people. You are evil, and driven by bloodlust. You are the work of a twisted man, nothing more.” Arthur argues loudly. Merlin snorts and dives in to strike. Arthur has to twist out of the way, shouldering Merlin aside roughly. The sorcerer stumbles slightly from the force of the blow, spinning to face him with a snarl.

“The Merlin you know is long gone, so give up. There’s nothing more that can be done!” He shouts, once again rushing forward to attack. Arthur meets him head on, hand gripping Merlin’s forearm as tightly as he can. He struggles as he holds Merlin back, the man intent on wrapping his fingers around his throat.

Arthur grunts in exertion as he says, “No, Merlin, I believe in you. I’ve always believed in you. You can fight this. You can end it now.” His voice is edging on breathless as Merlin slowly overpowers him.

Merlin grins. “You’re right about one thing. I can end this now.” One more surge of power has his hand pushing forward, fingers closing around Arthur throat and squeezing. Arthur chokes, eyes widening in surprise. There is one final thing he can try to reach Merlin. He digs deep, feeling the rush of emotions to the surface.

Locking eyes, Arthur says hoarsely, “Merlin, I love you.” For a moment, nothing happens, then Merlin’s dark eyes go fuzzy and out of focus. His grip loosens slightly. Spurred on, Arthur repeats, “I am in love with you, Merlin. Please, come back to me.”

Merlin looks conflicted as an internal struggle battles out inside him. He closes his eyes, teeth clenched tightly as he starts to violently tremble. A whimper catches in his throat. His grip tightens on Arthur’s throat again, but loosens when Arthur chokes on a breath. An animalistic growl erupts from deep within Merlin’s chest, and when he opens his eyes, Arthur is met with the familiar blue of a hot, summer’s day.

“Merlin!” Arthur cries, still slightly choked. Merlin’s hand immediately pulls away, as if he’s been burned.

“Arthur.” Merlin breathes, looking at him with desperate eyes. Arthur opens his mouth to say something, but Merlin beats him to it. “Kill me.”

Arthur thinks his heart stops in his chest. He must have heard incorrectly. “What? No! I got you, we won. It’s all okay now.” He argues frantically.

Merlin winces with pain filled eyes. “No.” He groans. “No. I don’t know how long I can hold on. There is only one way to stop this.” He argues, voice weak. His eyes flick around the square, taking in all the death around them, and his eyes fill with tears.

“No.” Arthur refuses to believe that. “There’s another way. You just have to hold on. We can fix this.” His voice is edging on hysteria, and he knows it.

Merlin’s face twists with pain and he leans forward, semi-balancing himself on Arthur’s chest. “No, there isn’t.” He whispers. “I can feel it, clawing it’s way out. You have to do it, now. We have no other choice. Killing me is the only way. Please.” He begs desperately.

Arthur shakes his head. “No, I can’t.”

Merlin reaches up to grip his face with both hands. “Yes, you can. Arthur, I was _made_ to protect you. Please help me fulfil that destiny one last time. You’re the only one who can.” When Arthur still shakes his head, Merlin looks deep into his eyes. “Arthur, I love you, too. Please, if you truly love me, do this. Save me.”

Arthur chokes and surges forward, pressing their lips together. Merlin softens, kissing him back desperately. Arthur’s hand drops his sword with a clatter, going to his belt to instead wrap around the hilt on his dagger. As Merlin presses closer, he pulls it free. Tears well up and spill down Arthur’s cheeks as he settles it over Merlin’s ribcage. Merlin feels it, and as he starts to pull away, Arthur plunges the blade in, past his ribs. Merlin’s pained and shocked eyes lift to meet his, and Arthur watches as they darken to black again. Merlin’s face contorts with rage.

“No!” He yells, and sends Arthur flying backward. He tugs the dagger free, tossing the blade aside. He takes a staggering step, then falls to his knees. Lifting his face to the sky, he screams. With a loud _crack_ , the stone steps leading up to the castle break in two. Arthur staggers upright just in time to watch Merlin fall to the side. He rushes over to his side, dropping to his knees as Merlin opens clear blue eyes.

As he gathers Merlin into his arms, Merlin whispers, “Thank you.” He falls limp in Arthur’s arms, breathing laboured, as the sky opens up and rain pours down.

“No, Merlin!” Arthur cries desperately, hand reaching down to his side and coming away slick with blood. He continues to mumble _‘no, no, no’_ desperately as he presses his hand over the wound, pulling Merlin up into his chest. Merlin’s ragged breathing is grating and jarring in his ears as he cradles Merlin’s head close. The tears are freely pouring down his cheeks as he stares down into Merlin’s pale face. His lips are moving, ever so slightly, and it takes a moment for Arthur to decipher what he’s silently trying to say. _‘I love you.’_

A wreaked sob rips itself from Arthur’s chest as he curls over Merlin’s body in his arms. He can feel the frail breathing on his cheek, and he fears that each one will be Merlin’s last. He suddenly realizes that he’s shaking as he hugs Merlin closer to him. The sound of footsteps is the only thing that makes him look up.

Gwaine drops his sword with a clatter, falling to his knees a few feet away, tears in his eyes. Percival crouches beside him, hand consolingly on his shoulder as they both look over their king, fragile body in his arms, Merlin’s blood smeared over his hands. Leon and Elyan stand sentry behind them, faces solemn and eyes also wet with unshed tears. Arthur looks back listlessly, tears freely streaming down his cheeks.

Lancelot is suddenly beside him, hand on his shoulder, causing him to jerk violently. The movement makes Merlin’s already weak breathing hitch slightly. Arthur looks down at his nearly ashen face before facing his friend.

“I—I had no choice. He—he asked...” He can’t finish as he shudders violently. Lancelot squeezes his shoulder firmly.

“Come, Arthur. We must get him to Gaius. Only then does he stand a chance.” Lancelot’s words sound far away to Arthur’s ears.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This entire fic was written specifically for this chapter. The inspiration came from this scene (originally the first paragraph of the first chapter) which came to me in the middle of the night, when I should’ve been sleeping:
> 
> “It was never supposed to end up like this. Try as he might, Arthur can’t figure out how things had gone so wrong, so fast. He had never wanted to end up here, kneeling in the mud in the pouring rain with Merlin’s bloody and almost lifeless body clutched to his chest. The stab wound in the other man’s side was from Arthur’s own blade, which now lay discarded several feet away. Merlin’s blood still clung stubbornly to the gleaming metal, despite the weather trying to wash it away. Silent and steady tears streamed down Arthur’s face, mixing seamlessly with the rain on his skin. He hadn’t wanted to do this, but he’d had no choice. Merlin would’ve destroyed Camelot otherwise. He’d had to be stopped, and Arthur had known that he was the only who could do it. Still, the look of shock on Merlin’s face as he had slid the blade between his ribs had nearly killed him, too. All he could do now was sit and wait for Gaius, praying that he would get here soon and that Merlin could be saved.”


	9. Chapter 9

Arthur sticks around just long enough to explain in shorthand to Gaius what had happened, before leaving. He can’t stand the sight of Merlin’s lifeless body anymore. The only glimmer of hope was that Merlin was still faintly breathing when he left. His thoughts are swirling as he wanders the halls back to his chambers. There are messes to clean up, he is well aware of that, but he can’t focus on them at the moment. He’s too busy trying to think of a way to save Merlin if he happens to survive his injury. How is he supposed to explain to his people that it wasn’t Merlin’s fault? How could he make them understand that, underneath it all, Merlin was ultimately not to blame? _He was not at fault._

The castle is empty, and he gets to his chambers quickly enough. When he steps into the vague privacy, the doors were still off their hinges, he lets out a scream of anger and pain. Everything on his desk gets swiped to the floor. How had everything gotten so turned upside down? What was he supposed to do? When he catches sight of himself in the mirror, he spots the smear of Merlin’s blood that had somehow made its way onto his cheek. Another stripped raw cry comes out of his throat as he finally gives in and punches the glass. The shards rain down at his feet, leaving his hand cut and bleeding. After that, everything in his chambers gets systematically torn apart, leaving the room in ruin. Arthur finds that he doesn’t care.

He collapses to the floor next to his bed, now littered with the remains of the canopy, and curls into himself. He lets his waves of emotions wash over him, and out of him, in a way that he never has before. If his father were here to see him... He shudders to think of what his father would think, let alone say or do. He can’t sentence Merlin to death for what he did, there had to be another way. He scrambles uselessly from one idea to the next. He was missing something, he knew he was. There had to be a way to make his people see the truth of what really happened.

What feels like the next moment, he is being shaken awake by a gentle hand on his shoulder. He hadn’t even realized that he had fallen asleep. His body is sore from battle, and loudly protesting his night spent perched against the side of his bed. As he slowly blinks awake, Gwen comes into focus. She looks drawn and tired.

“Merlin?” Is the first thing that blearily slurs out of his exhausted mouth. Gwen’s lips press into a thin line.

“Nothing has changed. He’s still alive, but he hasn’t woken.” She replies. When Arthur just looks away, Gwen realizes that he isn’t going to ask further about the men they lost. “We have gathered the men. Surprisingly, there were more injuries than fatalities. Granted, the injuries were bloody, and looked far worse than they were. We’ve all banded together to treat everyone we could, and everyone should make full recoveries.”

Arthur is staring blankly at the wall when he asks, “How many?” That’s as articulate as he can voice the question.

Gwen pauses before replying. “We’ve counted forty-one so far, but not everyone has been accounted for yet. We’re hoping that number doesn’t get any higher.”

Arthur finally tears his eyes away from the stone to look at her. “Are you afraid of him now?” He asks shakily. If even Gwen is scared of him now, he stands no chance of convincing everyone else, no matter what he may believe himself. She looks conflicted and uncomfortable before replying.

“No. I am not personally afraid of Merlin now, but I know Merlin. I know the circumstances behind why he acted the way he did. Many people don’t, and they are afraid.” She tells him truthfully. Arthur winces and looks away again.

“Is there any way to make them realize that Merlin isn’t to be feared?” He asks, but doesn’t hold out much hope.

Gwen sighs sadly before saying, “I really don’t know, Arthur. What I do know is that they need you right now, more than ever. They need you to be strong, and they need to trust in whatever decision you make.” She has to pause to swallow thickly, and Arthur looks at her again. “Your decision now will shape how they view you for the rest of your life.”

When Gwen gets up to leave, Arthur remains silent. He stays where he is, heart breaking even further. Merlin never told him about his magic because he didn’t want to put him in a position where he had to choose between him or Camelot. Turns out that reasoning was valid, as that was exactly where Arthur now found himself. He loved Merlin deeply, but he had a duty to Camelot, and as king, he had to protect them. How he wishes he could turn back time. If Merlin has told him about his magic, had he lifted the ban on magic, could all these events have never transpired? Could all of this have been avoided with one conversation?

The agony of the decision, and of not knowing Merlin’s fate, was taking a toll on him. He knew he had to distract himself, at least for a while, so he gets to his feet and leaves his chambers to help in any way he can. He happens to find Lancelot first, and pulls the man aside.

“How is everything?” He asks, trying to mask just how badly he was falling apart. Lancelot studies him intently, and Arthur knows that he can see right through him.

“The casualties are not as bad as we feared. It seemed like even though the curse had control, somewhere Merlin was there pulling his blows. Fatalities were unavoidable, but somehow we got away lucky.” Lancelot explains, telling him much the same as Guinevere had. That although he had been taken over by a monster, Merlin had still been subconsciously trying to fight back.

“And what of the people?” He asks. He had gotten Gwen’s take on things. Now, he wanted another opinion.

“Many of them are scared. The educated ones, the ones who have asked questions, seems to at least understand that it wasn’t necessarily Merlin who attacked Camelot, but there is still fear and anger rampant in the city. Perhaps in time, if Merlin could somehow atone for what he did, the people would change their minds. But it wouldn’t be easy, and it would take lots of time.” Lancelot replies, somehow knowing exactly what Arthur is asking. Arthur nods, bottom lip caught between his teeth.

Arthur switches topics by asking, “How much damages was done to the city?” At the question, Lancelot looks out of the nearby window to the courtyard beyond.

“Other than the fires, not much. It’s mostly just cleaning the streets at this point. Everyone is pitching in to help. They’ve all really banded together to put things back in order.” Lancelot’s words bring a small and bittersweet smile to Arthur’s lips.

“And everyone else? They’re all okay?” He asks uncertainly. Lancelot gives him a reassuring smile.

“Yes, everyone else is okay. Although, Gwaine will have quite the headache for a while.” Lancelot jokes half-heartedly. Arthur gives him a wan smile, appreciative of the attempt to cheer him up. As Lancelot continues on his way, Arthur moves to leave the castle. As he steps out into the mid-morning sunshine, it seems like everyone present in the courtyard stops to look at him. He tenses under their wary gazes. Once again, he wonders how he is to convince them all of Merlin’s innocence. After a moment, everyone goes back to their tasks at hand.

Arthur descends down the broken steps, moving to assist one of the other serving boys as he scrubbed at Merlin’s blood on the stone. The boy looks at him with surprised eyes before quickly averting them, and doubling his efforts. Arthur settles a calming hand on his shoulder, drawing his attention back. He feels the need to reassure the boy that everything is okay.

“There is no need to work your fingers to the bone.” He assures the boy gently. “You are doing fine, I am merely here to help.” The boy gives him an unsure smile, but returns to work more relaxed. Arthur allows himself a small smile of his own before going to the grisly task he had chosen. It quickly wipes the smile irrevocably from his lips.

The boy pauses for a moment before softly breaking the silence. “I know Merlin, my Lord.” He says, voice so quiet that Arthur almost has to strain to catch the words. He looks up with big, brown eyes. “I know he is kind. He was my... my friend, and I forgive him.” The boy speaks with such determination and finality, that Arthur nearly tears up.

“I hope one day everyone shares your opinion.” He replies just as quietly, as if they are exchanging secrets. The boy looks around slowly, and nods very slightly.

“They will.” He replies firmly. “The people of Camelot are good at heart. They are forgiving. They will one day welcome Merlin back with open arms.” The boy goes back to scrubbing as Arthur sits back on his heels. If only it were that simple. How he wishes that this pure and innocent boy could he correct.

A commotion behind him draws his attention. Gwen has appeared at the top of the stairs, eyes scanning for him. When she spots him, she hurries down the steps in his direction. Arthur has difficulty reading her expression as she approaches. He hurriedly gets to his feet as she draws closer. Whatever it is that she has to say cannot he good, as she leans in to whisper in his ear.

“It’s Merlin. He’s awake, and he wants to see you.” Her voice is urgent. Arthur feels a swoop in his stomach that mixes with the growing dread. He looks around at his people, again torn as to what he should do. Turning his back on their peering eyes, he follows Gwen back into the castle. She hurries them along, pausing outside the physician’s quarters.

“Thank you, Guinevere.” He says, gripping her hand to squeeze tightly. She squeezes back before letting go and pushing the door open. She doesn’t follow him in. Arthur finds the room empty, but hears voices coming from the back, so heads in that direction. His lungs and heart constrict more with every step he takes. He has no idea what to do or say. A trembling hand lifts to knock on the closed door.

He only has to wait a second for the door to swing open. Gaius is there, looking as stoic as usual. Over his shoulder, he sees Merlin propped up against a pile of ratty pillows, and very much alive. Their eyes meet, and Merlin quickly looks away, eyes filled with shame. Arthur’s attention gets pulled back to Gaius as he steps aside.

“I will give you two some privacy.” He says as Arthur enters the room. He barely notices the physician leave as his eyes once again settle on the man sitting in bed. Before he has the chance to even think of what to say first, Merlin speaks.

“Arthur, I am so sorry. I know that isn’t good enough. It can’t undo what I’ve done, or the lies I’ve told you, but it’s no less true.” He looks about ready to cry.

Arthur takes a deep breath. “Merlin, why did you never tell me?” He asks. He’s heard other’s opinions about why, but now he wants to hear the truth. Merlin looks away briefly before once again meeting Arthur’s eyes.

“At first, it was Uther, and you didn’t really know me. After that, I was afraid. If you handed me over to your father, then I wouldn’t be able to protect you. Once you became king, I... I guess it was just easier to keep it a secret. It had become a habit by that point.” Merlin replies in a weak voice. Arthur nods and takes a few steps closer.

“You should have told me. You should have trusted me. If you had, we could’ve slowly repealed the ban on magic together. You could’ve been free.” He says, doing his best to keep all emotion out of his voice.

Merlin shifts on the bed, looking away. “I know.” He says. “And I also know that I’ve ruined everything now.” He adds on miserably. Arthur studies him, realizing that Merlin blamed himself for everything that had happened.

“Merlin, none of this is your fault. No one blames you.” The words sound hollow even to his own ears. Merlin huffs out a pained and humourless laugh.

“That’s not true, and you know it.” He replies quietly, his voice so sad and resigned that Arthur’s heart wants to break all over again.

He steps even closer as he says, “They can be made to see. Merlin, you are not a monster. I have seen true evil in the world, and what happened to you was exactly that, but you are not an evil person yourself, Merlin. We can make them understand.” Merlin has definite tears in his eyes when he looks back and shakes his head.

“I know you want to believe that, and I do, too, but we both know you’re wrong.” His reply is quiet and so broken that Arthur takes the last few steps to sit on the bed beside him. When he reaches out to take Merlin’s hands in his, he flinches away. Arthur settles for resting a hand on Merlin’s knee, and he feels the man shake under his touch.

“Merlin, the people of Camelot are smart. They are a forgiving people.” He says, indirectly quoting the boy from earlier. “In time, they will see the truth. Once we explain what happened, it’ll all be fine.” Even he knows that he sounds a little desperate. Merlin gives him a sad, bittersweet smile.

“Maybe.” He says, but he doesn’t sound like he believes it. “For now, though, all they know is that they were attacked. People lost their lives, their homes.” Merlin’s voice sticks in his throat and he looks away, hands wrapping protectively around himself. His voice is shaking when he asks, “How many?”

It’s so reminiscent of Arthur himself this morning that his chest squeezes painfully around his heart. “Don’t do this to yourself, Merlin. It wasn’t you.” When Merlin looks back, he almost looks angry.

“How many, Arthur?” He demands fiercely.

Arthur sighs, lifting a hand to run into his hair. “Not as many as you’d think. Gwen told me forty-one, with more injured. The injuries, though, will heal. It seems that wherever the curse had you buried inside, you were awake enough to have some control over your body, even if you didn’t realize it. You, no doubt, saved countless lives by stopping the curse from having total control. Somehow, you threw your aim off.”

Merlin still pales further, and looks away. Arthur knows that even one death was too much blood on Merlin’s hands for him to accept. Whether he managed to save countless more, he still killed those men. The injured may make full recoveries, but they still got hurt in the first place. Merlin’s expression is heavy. A weight has settled on his shoulders that Arthur doesn’t believe really belongs there.

“How do you not hate me?” Merlin whispers brokenly. Arthur looks at him, startled by the question.

“What do you mean?” He asks.

Merlin looks up tearfully. “How can you sit there and not wish me dead? I’ve lied to you for years about my magic. I not only attacked you, but your people, and your kingdom. I’ve caused damage and hurt people. How can you not hate me, when I hate myself?” The words break Arthur’s heart.

“I could never hate you, Merlin.” He says. “I was admittedly furious when I first discovered your magic. There was a lot of yelling involved when I confronted Gaius about it, but he and Gwen talked me down. They made me see sense. Made me see your side in all of it.” He shrugs. “As for the rest, it wasn’t your fault. It was that sorcerer who did this to you. He is the one to blame, and had I not already killed him, I would present him to the people as the one who was at fault. Not you.”

He reaches out and cups Merlin’s quivering jaw in his palm, forcing him to look back. “Merlin, when I finally reached you, the first thing you asked me to do was kill you. You were willing to make the ultimate sacrifice to save me. To save everyone. Is that the action of a guilty man?” He asks. Merlin still looks so conflicted.

“No. I don’t know.” He falters. “Things would have been easier if you had let me die.” He adds quietly. Arthur pulls back, as if the words had physically hurt him. He never dreamed that Merlin’s guilt would go so far as to make him believe that he deserved to be dead.

Arthur settles his other hand on Merlin’s other cheek, and searches his eyes. “Merlin, I want you to listen to me very carefully. You do not deserve to die. You are going to rest until you are fully healed, and we are going to figure this out. Everything is going to be okay.”

Merlin brings a hand up to cover Arthur’s, a brief flash of a smile gracing his face before falling. He wanted to believe that Arthur was right, and maybe some day, he would be. Right now, though, was a different story. The kingdom needed their king to be strong, not divided, and as long as Merlin stayed, the worse it would get for everyone. Deep down, even Arthur knew that. He just didn’t want to admit it.

“Arthur, your people need you.” Merlin says softly. He had already resigned himself to his decision, and convinced Gwen and Gaius that it was the right one. Now, he just had to tell Arthur.

“You are one of those people, Merlin.” Arthur replies stubbornly, refusing to give in and see reason.

“Maybe I was before, but not anymore, and we both know it. Curse or not, it was my body, my face, that attacked Camelot. You cannot sit back and let that go unpunished.” He says back sadly. Arthur’s eyes spark with distress.

“No.” He says savagely, pulling back completely. “You are not asking me to kill you again.”

Merlin almost snorts. “No. That didn’t work overly well last time.” He says drily. Arthur makes an unimpressed face.

“Then what are you saying?” He asks reluctantly.

Merlin meets his eyes unblinkingly as he says, “I’m saying that the ban on magic is still there. Thanks to what happened, it will remain indefinitely. My actions, whether they were truly mine or not, call for my execution, but I know you won’t. That decision will shake the people’s faith in you. There will be dissent among the kingdom, and you will not be safe. I know this is an impossible decision to ask you to make, and so, I’m making it for you.”

Arthur actually whines as he reaches out to brush his cheek gently. “Meaning what, exactly?” He asks painfully. Merlin catches his hand, tangling their fingers together.

“Meaning,” he says over a long breath, “that I’m leaving. I can’t stay in Camelot.”

It feels like a bucket of ice water has been dumped over his head as Arthur fully takes in Merlin’s words. He’s already shaking his head, refusing to believe it. There has to be another way. He had already been faced with the possibility of losing Merlin once. To be faced with losing him again after only just getting him back was out of the question.

“Arthur, I know you don’t like it, but I’m not asking for permission. The longer I stay here, the worse the situation will become. The only reason I didn’t leave when I woke was because I wanted to tell you myself. I didn’t want to just disappear.” Merlin continues in resignation.

“Where will you go?” Arthur asks blandly. He’s already starting to wall himself back in, trying to protect himself from further hurt.

Merlin’s smile is sad when he says, “You know I can’t tell you that.” He looks more forceful when he adds, “You can’t follow me. You have to let me go, at least for now. Arthur, I wasn’t lying when I said I loved you, but the people need to see you strong. I will not let you give up who you are just for me.”

Arthur nods slightly, looking away. “Will I ever see you again?” His voice cracks, betraying him completely. Merlin grunts as he leans forward so he can reach Arthur’s face with his weary hands. He very gently guides his head around. He rests their foreheads together.

“I do not believe that this is goodbye. We will meet again once I have atoned for the things I have done. I need to prove to myself, and to the people, that I am not the monster that, that curse tried to turn me into. You need to give the people time to understand and come to terms with what has happened. Then, and only then, will I be able to return. If you still want me.” He breathes. Arthur shivers under his hands, and that’s all the warning he gets before Arthur is leaning closer and kissing him again.

Merlin shakily exhales, matching Arthur’s desperation with his own. When they finally pull apart, Arthur has tears in his eyes, but finally looks understanding. Merlin gently runs his fingers over the man’s cheeks, flushed red with emotion.

“I will always love you, Merlin, and when the time comes, you will be welcomed back to Camelot with open arms. I promise.” Merlin closes his eyes and sighs. He doesn’t bother telling Arthur that he shouldn’t make promises he doesn’t know if he can keep. He may have faith in his people, but there were never any guarantees.

Merlin leaves shortly after. He uses his magic one last time to slip out of the city undetected. That evening, Arthur makes an official announcement to the people, explaining that Merlin was gone, sent away where he could never hurt anyone again. With the help of his knights, he explains to them all what happened, and how it may have been Merlin’s body that had been against them, but not Merlin himself. They seem slightly more appeased when Gwen, who they viewed as one of their own, agrees with him. Now, only time would tell.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This one is up to you guys... do you want a potential happy ending, or do you want tears?? I’ll go with whatever you all want most, so post those comments and let me know!!


	10. Chapter 10

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Okay, I asked and you answered, so here is your happy ending... with a twist.
> 
> A few things before reading: I know what I did with this is not canonically possible (regarding Merlin), nor is it an accurate representation of how people would probably react to such an event happening. However, this is why it’s called “fanfiction”.

ONE YEAR LATER  
Life settled down, as it always seems to do. As the city was cleaned up, and homes were repaired and rebuilt, things seemed to go back to normal. The people were not so easily fixed, but given time, they, too, healed. Warm nights had faded into chillier mornings, and soon bringing in the harvest took over everyone’s minds. Preparations for winter because more important than stewing in old memories. That winter was hard for Arthur. Watching his people heal and move on was bittersweet. It was difficult to be happy with them when he felt hollow, like a piece of him was missing.

With spring came more smiles. Gradually, hard scowls and shudders were replaced by fond smiles and relaxed reminiscences whenever Merlin’s name was mentioned. Every now and then, someone would get a haunted look in their eye, but it was generally expelled when someone spoke of how a boy from the country had tripped clumsily into the prince’s life, and changed him for the better. It took time, but slowly the citizens of Camelot spoke of how kind Merlin had been, instead of how terrifying he had momentarily become. It seemed that, that boy from so many months ago had been right. The people of Camelot were kind hearted and forgiving. Not that it mattered. There was no trace of Merlin to be found.

Arthur hadn’t been expecting to hear from Merlin for a while after he had left, but he had been hoping for some news eventually. As the months passed, and no word came, Arthur grew restless. He had allowed Gwaine and Lancelot to ride out in search of him, or even a tiny whisper of his whereabouts, but each time they came back empty handed. It seemed that Merlin had been true to his word. He didn’t want to be found.

And so it was, that Arthur ruled over Camelot with a heavy heart. He politely declined the hands of passing nobles’ daughters. His people, although not aware of the truth behind his decision, never seemed to question it. Things went back to the way they had been before. Peaceful, quiet, and at times, even boring. As it always does, life moved on.

When Arthur awoke exactly one year after Merlin’s departure, he had a heavy heart. As it had all that time ago, things had been quiet in Camelot. There were no looming attacks from other kingdoms, no domestic disputes that required his hand in settling. As far as that day was concerned, Arthur had a free schedule. He had rearranged all his council meetings, and other duties, to give himself the day off. Training of the knights had been passed to Leon for the day. Arthur had every intention of getting on his horse and leaving, not intending to return until nightfall.

His new servant, the boy from last year, was on time with his breakfast (something Arthur still wasn’t used to, after all this time), and picked out weather appropriate clothes. Arthur assured him he didn’t require any more assistance, and sent him on his way. He kept his mind as blank as possible as he ate, not wanting to relive the events of the previous year. After dressing, he wrapped his cloak around his shoulders, and left the room. No one bothered him on his way out of the castle, except to give him discreet, pitying looks. He ignored them all.

His horse seemed happy to see him, chomping the bit excitedly as he mounted up into the saddle. He ran a hand down the brown neck and soothed it in soft tones. He glances around the courtyard before nudging his mount with his heels and walking to the exit. A voice calling out his name pulls him up short after only a handful of strides. Looking back, he spots Gwen and Lancelot approaching him, hands tangled together at their sides.

“Where will you be going, my Lord?” Lancelot asks, still stubborn in his proprietary ways. Arthur smiles softly.

“I’m not entirely sure.” He replies, he can feel an invisible pull on his mind, urging him to go somewhere very specific, only he couldn’t understand why. He supposed that the scenery there is beautiful this time of year. Perhaps his subconscious mind wants the quiet relaxation of a body of water. “I was thinking the Lake of Avalon.”

A flicker of _something_ passes over Lancelot’s face, but Arthur can’t place it for the life of him. Gwen’s lips purse for a moment before she schools her expression back to normal. The pair are acting quite odd, and had it been another day, Arthur may have taken the time to find out why. As it was, he simple wanted to be on his way.

“You will remain undisturbed unless something of great importance comes up.” Lancelot promises, Bowing his head slightly. Arthur frowns slightly, but nods.

“Very well. Thank you.” Is all he says before turning back and breaking into a trot. He hears a conversation playing out between the two behind him, but he’s soon out of the courtyard and leaving them behind. Kind smiles and more pitying glances await him as he passes through the Lower Town. He returns the smiles, but still steadfastly doesn’t acknowledge the other looks. He had spread a word or two, here and there, a while back about Merlin potentially returning, and while there hadn’t been an uprising among the people, these glances had started.

Arthur remains vigilant as he moves through the city, only relaxing as he leaves the walls and stone behind. The fresh air is already working wonders on his overstretched nerves. He had thrown himself into his duties as king over the past year, desperate to keep the people’s faith in him after what happened, but had clearly overtaxed himself in the process. Had Merlin still been his servant, he surely would’ve received an earful long before now. Granted, had Merlin still been his servant, his potentially self-destructive fall into work wouldn’t have been warranted.

Thoughts of Merlin sing a sad tune in his heart, as they always did now, but curiously also strengthened the pull to the lake in his mind. He and Merlin had been to the lake together before, obviously, but he can’t seem to place any particular importance on the place that would make him crave it on this day. However, if it was peace and quiet his mind and soul craved, then he would willingly do as it wanted.

Arthur takes his time, riding leisurely through the trees. He had all day, no matter how insistent the tug on his mind was. It was spreading down to his chest, leaving a lingering, and increasingly hard to ignore, feeling of needing to rush. He combats the feeling as long as he can until his stomach starts twisting as well, and he finally gives up and urges his horse faster. They move along at a brisk pace, avoiding large roots, fallen trees, and low hanging branches as Arthur follows the mystifying pull toward his destination. His entire body erupts into tingles as he draws nearer, further confusing him. What was it about this place that his body so clearly desired?

An overwhelming sense of calm washes over him as the lake comes into view between the trees. He pauses for a moment, content to just breathe the feeling in, before a swoop in his chest urges him forward again. He stops a short distance away and dismounts, leaving his horse tied securely to a solid branch, and continues on his way on foot. As the shores get closer, the buzzing in his veins grows stronger. The reason continues to elude him until he takes another step and sees someone kneeling by the water.

His footsteps alert the man to his presence, and he looks over his shoulder, eyes connecting with Arthur’s. He looks older, more than simply a year should have done. Maybe it’s the haggard look on his face, or the slightly longer, unkempt hair, or perhaps the shade of his skin that is just a couple shades too light. But no matter how he may look, Arthur would recognize him anywhere.

“Merlin.” He breathes, footsteps faltering before continuing forward on their own. He’s blessed with a small, barely there smile pulling one corner of the man’s mouth up.

“Hi, Arthur.” Merlin replies softly. Even his voice sounds tired, and Arthur feels himself frown with concern. Whatever Merlin had been doing this last year, he really should have been taking better care of himself.

Arthur comes to stop a few feet away, eyes roving over the man in front of him. _Was he even real?_ Arthur opens his mouth to say something, but nothing comes out. He closes his mouth and swallows, intent on trying again. What finally fumbles its way out of his mouth is, “What have— where have— Merlin?”

That barely there smile grows. “At first, I sought out the druids, hoping they could help me. When they couldn’t, I had to seek out my answers elsewhere. I’ve been... everywhere.” Merlin replies quietly. Arthur studies him even closer.

“And what question did you want answered?” He asks. He had always been curious about Merlin. To his disappointment, however, Merlin’s small smile just turns sad, the emotion lingering in his eyes as well. Merlin only holds his gaze for another moment or two before looking away. When Arthur realizes that he isn’t going to get that particular question answered yet, he follows up with, “What have you been doing while you’ve been everywhere?”

That question brings Merlin’s eyes back to his, but he still doesn’t speak. Arthur hesitates, debating his decision, before taking the last few steps to bring him to Merlin’s side. When the man doesn’t move or flinch away, Arthur slowly lowers himself down to the ground. Perhaps he will seem less intimidating if he were to be at Merlin’s level instead of standing over him. Merlin’s smile perks up a bit at Arthur’s proximity, but his eyes still look haunted.

At last, Merlin clears his throat. “I tried my best to help anyone I came across. I stayed with a family for about a week, helping them tend the farm and bring in the harvest. The woman reminded me of my mother. All by herself with two little kids. She tried to repay me for my help, but I wouldn’t let her. She also offered to let me stay as long as I wanted, but I couldn’t. I still felt too... dangerous. I didn’t want to risk hurting them, so once the harvest was in, I left.”

Arthur nods, watching Merlin’s face intently. So many different and complex emotions were flitting across his features that Arthur found it difficult to keep up with them. “What about after that? How did you survive the winter alone outside?”

Merlin glances at him from the corner of his eye, then looks away again. “When I insisted on leaving, she gave me her warmest cloak. She wouldn’t take no for an answer. She told me that my face screamed of tragedy, but that no matter what had happened, I had a good heart, and therefore deserved her kindness. I had helped her and her children, and she was immensely grateful.” He shrugs as his head ducks down closer to his chest.

“Smart woman.” Arthur comments. Merlin doesn’t reply. Another moment of thoughtful silence passes between them as Merlin further debates what to tell Arthur about his time away.

“I saved a girl from drowning.” He continues quietly. “She had slipped under the ice on a river nearby her town. I heard her brother shouting for help. It was... nice to use my magic for something so undeniably good. I made sure they both got back to their parents safely, but didn’t stick around after that, despite their protests. They once again insisted I take some food for my travels, and bid me goodbye. Before I could get too far away though, the girl came running back, and just hugged me as tight as she could. She thanked me for saving her life, then for some reason just looked me in the eye and told me that I wasn’t a monster. I left pretty quickly after she let me go. I still wasn’t sure that I believed her words to be true.”

When he stops to take a gulp of air, Arthur takes a chance to reach out and gently touch the outside of Merlin’s wrist. Merlin looks at him, locking gazes again. Arthur wants to tell him that the girl was right, that Merlin wasn’t a monster, he never was, but he felt there was more to Merlin’s story. Sure enough, Merlin gives himself a shake, and tears his eyes away from Arthur’s.

“After that, I just drifted. I still hadn’t found what I was looking for, and I just felt so lost.” Merlin sounds so broken that Arthur can scarcely breathe. “I still stopped along the way, and helped who I could, but it was getting colder, and soon the snow came. Very little people were out in such weather, so more often than not, I found myself alone. I guess it wasn’t all bad. In a way, it felt like penance for what I had done. It wasn’t too long after the first snow that I met a wandering knight. He was looking for a worthy king to pledge allegiance to, and he took me in. You might know him. When we split ways, I told him to go to you. Sir Geriant?”

Arthur smiles at the name. Yes, he was familiar with Sir Geriant. He had appeared seemingly out of nowhere many months back, saying that he wanted to serve Camelot, and that a friend had sent him. He wouldn’t say who the friend was, but Arthur had always secretly hoped that it had been Merlin. Turns out he had been right. The man was very kind. Noble and brave. The perfect material for a knight of Camelot, and he had fit in quite well amongst the others.

“He helped me in my search for answers. Despite everything I told him, he stuck by my side. I owe him my life, actually.” He adds on softly. Arthur looks at him curiously. His new knight hadn’t mentioned anything about his life before Camelot, and certainly nothing about saving a man’s life.

“How so?” Arthur asks. Merlin gives him a very brief, pained look.

Merlin lets out a shaky breath before replying, “He taught me how to use a sword. You had tried to teach me the basics before, but I never really picked it up, you know? I had my duties to you and Gaius to perform, and half the time I was so busy running around behind your back, saving you, that I had little time to really learn new skills. Geriant traveled with me, teaching me skills everyday until I was good enough to protect myself. When we found what I had been seeking, I repaid him by telling him about you, that you were a king worthy of his allegiance. He helped me, so I gave him a purpose.”

Arthur nods, feeling a sense of pride in his new knight, before Merlin’s words fully register in his brain. “Why would you need a sword to protect yourself when you have magic?” He asks. When Merlin bites his lip and looks away, he demands, “Merlin, what did you do?”

Instead of verbally answering, Merlin holds out his hand and mutters an incantation under his breath. Arthur waits, but nothing happens. Nothing appears in Merlin’s hand, and there’s no golden glow around his eyes. He looks up with a silent question in his eyes, and Merlin smiles back sadly.

“It’s gone.” He whispers. “I ripped it out. The spell was difficult to find, and very risky. It nearly killed me, and there were days when I wished it had. My magic was so interwoven into my very being, that tearing it out was almost unbearable.”

Arthur stares at him in shock. “Why?” He breathes.

Merlin meets his eyes. “The power I had... I had always used it for good. It wasn’t an evil thing, I know that. But to be pushed aside in my own mind, to helplessly watch my power be manipulated to hurt, and inflict such pain... I couldn’t live with the possibility of it happening again. It was the only way to prove that I wasn’t a monster.”

Arthur looks away, out over the lake. “You did all this just so you could come home?” He asks quietly.

“No.” Merlin counters softly. “I did it to put my own mind at ease.” A silence falls between them following Merlin’s words, and Arthur struggles to find a way to break it.

“Is it gone for good, then?” He finally asks.

Merlin shakes his head. “Magic itself cannot be destroyed, no matter what your father believed. It’s in all life around us. It can only be shifted, from one thing to another. My magic was, _is_ , unique to me, and I was warned before performing the spell that eventually it would find its way back to me. It would take time, probably a long time, but it would slowly return. Not all at once, but little by little, like water drops filling a bucket.”

Arthur nods, trying to wrap his head around Merlin’s sacrifice. “How long ago was this?” He asks. “And what have you been doing since?”

Merlin looks out over the lake when he answers, “It was long enough ago.” He shrugs and looks down. “I struggled at first. My body had to relearn what it was without my magic being a part of it. It was hard, but I slowly figured out who I was without it. Since then, I’ve been doing what I did before: helping people. Up until something called me here.” He looks back at Arthur, meeting his eyes. Arthur’s heart stammers in his chest, and he gets this feeling of just being _right_.

“I missed you so much, Merlin.” He breathes, twisting around to wrap his arms around Merlin’s shoulders, and pulling him into a hug. He feels the man shift in his arms before he feels arms wrap tightly around him as Merlin buries his face in his neck.

Merlin’s words are muffled against Arthur’s neck when he replies, “I missed you, too. Every day.” They sit there by the lake, just wrapped up in each other’s embrace. If Arthur felt the wetness of tears on his neck, then he doesn’t comment on them. Merlin is silently grateful for that. He makes sure to compose himself as they slowly pull away from each other.

Arthur doesn’t let Merlin go far, catching his cheek with his palm. He brushes his thumb over his cheekbone as he gives him a watery smile. Merlin returns it with one of his own, and as it finally reaches his eyes, Arthur leans in to press their lips together. The effect on Arthur is instantaneous. He had spent the last year feeling hollow, like a vital part of himself was missing. He had moved through each day as if he was numb. He could function, and he performed all his duties to the best of his abilities, but he had felt incomplete. All of that disappears, slipping away into nothing, as he feels Merlin melt into the embrace, their lips melding in the warm, summer air.

When they separate, Arthur feels breathless. He keeps his eyes closed as he leans his forehead against Merlin’s. His fingers reach out needily, gripping into Merlin’s jacket and just hanging on. Maybe he’s subconsciously worried that Merlin will disappear if he lets go. That’s the only way he can really explain his sudden clinginess.

“What about you?” Merlin asks softly, gently nudging their noses together. “How have things been back in Camelot?” He almost chokes on the word. Arthur opens his eyes, and is met with Merlin’s endless blue ones, now swimming with such sadness and regret.

“It took a while, but things have settled.” He replies. “The people have healed, both in body and mind. No one will ever forget what happened, but it’s in the past now. I think... I think for the most part, they’ve moved on. The people of Camelot have truly shown just how kind they are.” He pauses to think for a moment. “Your friends all miss you dearly. I’m sure they would love to see you again.”

Merlin pulls away, biting his lip uncertainly as he averts his eyes. “I don’t know, Arthur. How can I ever go back? What I did—“

“Wasn’t your fault.” Arthur interrupts firmly. Merlin looks so helplessly broken and lost when he looks back.

“That doesn’t really matter, though, does it?” He counters sadly. Arthur will admit that at first, his people had been frightened. They had been angry. But they had also moved on. They no longer spoke his name with fear and hate, instead now speaking it with an almost fond sadness. It had taken time, but they now understood that even at the time, Merlin had been fighting to try and save them. Arthur wishes that he knew of a way to convince Merlin of that.

Merlin still looks so miserable that Arthur reaches up to brush a stray lock of his dark hair off his forehead. “At the very least, you could come back to get a proper haircut.”

His teasing does the trick, and Merlin smiles weakly. He gently shoves Arthur’s hand away as he mumbles, “Prat.”

Arthur smiles and leans closer to press a kiss to Merlin’s forehead. He would like nothing more than to have Merlin return home with him. Camelot has felt just as empty as Arthur had without the man there. Unfortunately, it was not his decision. It was Merlin’s. No matter what Arthur thought the man did, or did not, deserve, if Merlin though he needed more punishment, he would take it.

He gives Merlin a soft, slow kiss, murmuring as he pulls away, “Camelot will always be your home, Merlin. No matter what you believe, it is the truth. If it is the people you are afraid of, then you need only show them that you’ve paid the price for what you have done. If it is me, then know this: I have loved you every day of your absence.”

Merlin blinks back conflicted tears, struggling out of Arthur’s grasp and getting to his feet. He paces several steps away before stopping and turning back. He still looks so damn broken, so scared, and Arthur feels helpless to stop it. He doesn’t know how to comfort the man currently trembling before him. He slowly rises to his feet, Merlin jerking back slightly as Arthur moves to once again embrace him.

“I want to go back,” Merlin breathes, “but how can you be sure that I am not hated amongst your people? How can you be sure that my return won’t create a riot in the city? They would lose faith in you, rise up against you, overthrow your rule. How can I risk that?” He asks desperately.

Arthur settles his hands on either side of Merlin’s face. “Because I know my people, and they know you. It’s okay, Merlin. You’re safe.” Merlin chokes on a sob, tears slipping down his pale cheeks. “Merlin, come home.”

He holds his breath for a moment, only letting it out when Merlin nods shakily. He draws him in for another kiss, heart singing as he feels Merlin press closer. Of course, he can’t be entirely sure of his people’s reaction, but he believes in them. Everything will be okay now, especially once they learn of his sacrifice. He no longer has the power to destroy armies surging through his body. He’s just like them. Arthur kisses him more firmly, more desperately, at the thought. This beautiful man gave up the very thing that made him unique, just to pay for his sins. That was not the action of a guilty man. Merlin was pure of heart, and he was sure that the people of Camelot would see that, and remember.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So there it is. It’s up to you to decide if things truly end happy or not. I made small suggestions at what I would like to believe, but you can all decide for yourself. Like I said... a happy ending with a twist.

**Author's Note:**

> I am officially now on tumblr! I suck at technology, so you’ll just have to go the old fashioned way of looking up: messandahalf10 😂


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